


Novak Wears Prada

by michaelfalls



Series: Designers and Doctors [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: CEO Castiel (Supernatural), Closeted Character, Coming Out, Fashion & Couture, Inspired by The Devil Wears Prada, M/M, Personal Assistant Dean Winchester, Pride, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 107,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23378131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelfalls/pseuds/michaelfalls
Summary: Castiel shrugs on his Prada trench coat, smiling, “I think part of your job is to not ask questions.”Dean looks at him, unimpressed, “No, my job is to do things for you and keep your schedule all neat. Nowhere does it say there’s a no-questions-asked policy. We’re not Lily and Marshall.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester (Recurring), Michael/Adam Milligan (Recurring)
Series: Designers and Doctors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891804
Comments: 126
Kudos: 203
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. le coupe de foudre

**Author's Note:**

> This fic draws inspiration from The Devil Wears Prada, real designers, collections and outfits.
> 
> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7A7nU6Ufjmm9pAFMlsaINV?si=M2x2zAzQTY6e_DdeJ5znjA

_In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different._  
**Coco Chanel**

Dean sets down the last box on the wooden floorboards of his new apartment. “Well, that’s the last of it.”

Dean has spent the whole day moving into his new apartment in New York City with the help of his brother. The previous month, he’d applied for and gotten the job of personal assistant to the Creative Director at one of the top brands of the fashion industry, NOVAK. He was excited about the job but knew that if he was to be someone’s personal assistant, he would have to make himself available around the clock. He made the decision to move to a cheap apartment in New York City. Though Sam offered to move with him so he wouldn’t be alone and they could split the rent, Dean assured him that he would manage on his own since the pay NOVAK offers sounded good enough to pay rent and get by with his daily life.

The apartment is big enough for one person, maybe two if Dean planned his space, and it’s comfortable. Suits him nicely — Dean never liked having too much room, it made him uneasy. He’d never been used to having ample space to himself. The sun streamed in nicely, casting a warm yellow glow across the floor and the white walls. The kitchen is small; At first, it’d been something that made Dean reconsider getting that apartment, but he decided that he might not even be at home enough to have free time for a big kitchen anyway. He’d accepted that he’ll probably have to make time for cup noodles or the like and not meals he could spend an hour or two to prepare. He liked cooking, but he could give up his hobby to pursue his dream, at least until he has the money for a bigger apartment. Otherwise, his bedroom was actually decently-sized so he could get a big king-sized bed. It has its perks.

Sam looks around, a faint smile tugging at the edges of his mouth, “This is so awesome, Dean. This job, this apartment. _New York City_. This is really exciting and I’m proud of you, man.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean grins, pulling Sam into his side for a quick hug. “If you come to visit, let me know in advance. I watched _The Devil Wears Prada_ the other day, just to get a feel of what my life is gonna be like. Doesn’t look pretty, gotta admit.”

Sam scrunches up his nose, repeating, “ _The Devil Wears Prada_?”

Dean nods half-heartedly, bending over to open up a box labelled ‘CLOTHES’ in thick black marker on the side. “Yeah, you know, that Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway movie.” Sam tucks his hands into his jean pockets, still giving Dean a strange look, and Dean rolls his eyes, “It’s got Emily Blunt in it too, she plays that other assistant?”

“Oh, yeah!” Sam recognizes, causing Dean to throw up his hands in mock exasperation. Sam only remembers movies and TV shows by specific actors and characters which annoyed Dean slightly, but it’s also one of Sam’s quirks. “I love Emily Blunt.”

“Get in line,” Dean chuckles, pulling out an _AC/DC_ shirt and smelling it. He smiles at the clean smell and says, “If I meet her, I’m gonna see if I can befriend her. Do you think she’ll let me meet John Krasinski?”

“Hey, you’ll probably be her stylist or something, not her best friend,” Sam laughs, shaking his head. “But if you do get her phone number, you better leak it to me,”

Dean throws one of the smellier shirts at Sam’s face, causing the younger of them to shriek. “Dude, celebrities need privacy too. Hell no.”

“I was only kidding,” Sam grins, dropping the shirt to the floor. “Eileen and I will come to visit after Fashion Week is done. Are you going since you’re gonna be the guy’s P.A.?”

“I mean, I think so, but I’m not getting my hopes up,” Dean replies, pulling out a hanger from one of the other opened boxes to drape a bomber jacket he’d made for himself when he was 17. It had _Led Zeppelin_ ’s logo on the back, clear white against shimmery black. “But yeah, I think coming here after then would be the best timing.”

Sam nods and helps him open up another box labelled ‘OTHER’. “What are you gonna wear for your first day next week?”

“I don’t know, man. It’s not like I’ve got a whole couture catalogue in my closet,” Dean shrugs. He digs through the cardboard box before he gives up, dragging the other one over and cutting through the tape on the top. “Maybe I’ll have something here.”

“Well, whatever it is, please don’t wear your flannel shirts,” Sam says, shit-eating grin on his face. 

“First off, I think my boss would bite my head off if I wore flannel on my first day at work and I don’t have a death wish,” Dean says, his eyebrows rising as if asking ‘Can you imagine?’. “Second, obviously not. But you know I’ve been styling you for literally every date you’ve been on, I can style flannel if I want to. I just choose not to.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says dismissively, but his tone is soft when he adds after a moment, “I’m gonna miss having you around, Dean. Now that you’re in NYC and I’m all the way at Stanford. That’s a five-hour flight.”

Dean points out, looking through the second clothes box, “Well, there’s FaceTime and all that crap. We’ll live.” He digs deep and feels around until he catches onto what he’s looking for. He drags it out and holds it up to Sam; it’s a jacket he’d bought purely on impulse. He regretted the expensive purchase as soon as he left the store, but it was Christmas and he was sad, so the remorse didn’t last very long.

“Ah, yes. That denim jacket you blew your entire year’s savings on,” Sam says with sarcastic fondness. “I don’t think I have ever seen you wear that. How much was it?”

“$1,500, it's _Dior_ ,” Dean says with a frown. “And I _do_ wear this. Many times. Remember, I wore it on that date with that girl, whats-her-name... Cassie Robinson.”

“She liked wearing that jacket more than you did,” Sam mumbles, rolling his eyes. “I thought you were gonna give it to her but then you broke up.”

Dean explains, putting the jacket on the hanger and looking for something else, “Yeah, but I wasn’t about to throw $1,500 out the window. I earned that cash from wedding dresses, prom gowns, and Bobby’s shop. Plus, a quality jacket. The cut’s magnificent. I should get to keep it.”

Sam simply grins, shaking his head as he puts a framed photograph of him, Dean, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo up on the mantelpiece. They took it when Dean was 7 and Sam was 3, the week after John walked out on them. Dean carried Sam in his arms for the photo and Sam was crying loudly. Bobby had a pacifier ready in his hand, Ellen had a small fluffy blanket, and Jo tried her best to grin. “Yeah, you should.”

“Oh, hey. I wanna give this to you,” Dean says, holding out a shirt Dean had gotten from H&M a long time ago. “I don’t really wear it and it cost like 40 bucks. Keep it.”

“Thanks,” Sam accepts the shirt, sniffing it and then grimacing, holding it at a distance. “Woah, someone hasn’t washed it in a while.”

Dean scoffs, “You have a washing machine at your place. Clean it yourself. Anyway...” He takes out a Vivienne Westwood Hypnos jacket. Blended wool with mint green and black tartan. There’s voluminous pockets on the front and its tasteful asymmetry. Tailored for an oversized look. “Think I’ll wear this shirt to work.”

“Lee bought that for your birthday, right? How much was that?” Sam asks, putting more photos on the mantel.

“660 pounds. He got it online with money he saved from work,” Dean answers. “Yeah, this should be good luck. I’m wearing this. Just need some good pants and shoes...” He selects skinny black jeans and rip-off Salvatore Ferragamo Asten Bit loafers he got off some cheap online store for 50 bucks. The quality isn’t so great but Dean has worn it for years and it never let him down.

Dean stands and holds up the new outfit against his body. Sam looks him over and raises a thumbs-up in approval. “Yeah, wear that, definitely.”

“Great, that’s that,” Dean says, setting the outfit down on a chair. “Ugh, this is gonna take so long to unpack.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m here for. I’ll help you unpack then I’ll fly back to Stanford. Eileen said it was okay,” Sam says, smiling lopsidedly. “What do you want to start with first?” As soon as he asks it, he smacks a hand to his forehead. “Who am I kidding? You’re gonna wanna start with the clothes. Okay, everything on a hanger?”

“Dude, folding just leaves creases. No,” Dean says. “But hang the branded stuff first then jackets and shirts. If I run out of hangers, fold the cheap shirts and pants.”

“Got it,” Sam nods, already putting up a remake of a Louis Vuitton coat — an Archive Pocket Blouson, according to Dean. He remembered the time Dean saw it in a shop window the time Bobby took them and Jo to the city for a trip. Dean had wanted to buy it until he realized it cost $2,630. He’d been upset the whole trip after that because he really wanted it, but Sam was 9 and Jo and Dean were 13, and Bobby runs a small store in a small town, and Ellen operates a cheap bar, and none of them had that kind of money.

When they got back to Sioux Falls, Bobby tried to placate Dean, only to have Dean ask if he can bring him to the materials shop down the street so he could buy cloth to make the jacket himself. After a full month of day to night work, Dean came out of their shared room one evening after Ellen called them all for dinner, in a near-perfect recreation of the Louis Vuitton jacket. The sleeves went over his small hands and the bottom reached his knees. Bobby asked why he made it so big and Dean said he wanted to be able to wear it even when he grew up.

He smiles — it still fits him. Dean was always forward-thinking. Fashion is perfect for him.

They spend the rest of the day joking around and unpacking until they were done, then Sam called for pizza to be delivered and they ate it while some foreign movie played at 3 in the morning.

Dean wakes up first the next morning, groaning as he cracks his back. They fell asleep on the couch and Dean sighs in relief when he realizes that in his slumber, Sam rolled right over the remote, turning the TV off. At least it didn’t keep playing all night long. He clears the pizza boxes and folds up the empty cardboard boxes, putting them neatly by the side of the door.

Sam grumbles with morning fatigue, blinking hard against the sun, “What time is it?”

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean greets. “It’s almost noon.”

“Damn, we’ve been sleeping for a while,” Sam gets up and points at the cardboard boxes, “I’ll get rid of those when I go so don’t worry about them.”

“Thanks,” Dean nods. “Go wash up. I’ll buy you breakfast and see you off to the airport, yeah?”

With the promise that he’ll come back to visit after Fashion Week is over, Sam gave Dean a farewell hug and told him good luck before he went into the departure hall. Dean waves goodbye through the gate and turns on his heel to leave, adjusting the jacket on his shoulders.

He passes by the arrival hall and sees paparazzi so he slows and squints, trying to make out who it is.

Castiel Novak, the creative director and head designer of _NOVAK_ , steps out of the departure hall with a redhead woman and Asian guy walking by his side. He walks with the kind of confidence Dean usually only sees on the runway and the two, presumably his employees, following anxiously as the paparazzi click away.

Dean freezes in his spot just to watch and Castiel and his employees pass him by. He can hear Castiel saying something like “... Barnes to check with the P.A., see if he’s coming in next...” The man keys it into his phone hurriedly, holding a computer bag under his arms, and Dean makes a mental note to clear up space in his phone notes app. There are way too many wish lists and shopping lists there.

The two employees’ outfits do inject some faith into his bank account, though, considering that they’re both dripping with designer labels just as their boss is. The girl has a camel-coloured fil coupé trench coat with floral print from Oscar de la Renta that could easily cost her 3000 bucks, paired with Loubi Bee sandals from Christian Louboutin. It’s probably less than $1000, but it did look expensive. The boy had on matching classic samurai trousers with a waistcoat jacket, both having green pinstripes on a burgundy background. From the cut of it, they’re Vivienne Westwood.

Castiel himself is in a suit Dean doesn’t think he’s seen before, so he’s sure it’s a custom order. From the construction quality, he assumes it’s Ralph Lauren. It looks good on him, hugging his body in a flattering way, and he walks with pride in his step. Just the air around them is way too expensive for Dean, but he can’t help wondering how long he had to work under Castiel before he can afford designer clothing like it’s nothing.

They’re gone as soon as they pass and then Dean’s on his way to hail a taxi back to his apartment.

As expected, Dean gets a phone call later that day. He puts down the bowl of pasta on the table and quickly picks up, saying, “Dean Winchester here. Who’s this?”

“Hi, Mr Winchester. I’m calling from the NOVAK office,” a woman says. “We’re just checking if you will be showing up for work this coming Monday.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Dean answers. “Why, is there like an orientation or something? This is my first real job in this industry.”

The woman says, impressed, “Your first job and you nailed NOVAK? Wow, hotshot, I wanna see your portfolio someday.” Dean can’t hold back a smile and he hears papers flipping on the other end. “And no, no orientation. Nobody here has the time to do anything more than a quick tour. I’ll talk you through it, though. Show you around a little bit and get you settled before the chaos ensues.”

“Thanks,” Dean nods. “What’s your name?”

“Pamela Barnes, my friends call me Pam,” she answers. “I’ll see you next week, Dean. Word of advice; you’re not gonna have time to cook anymore, so you should have your last couple of good home-cooked meals. From Monday on out, it’s either cafeteria food, late-night cup noodles, sandwiches or the occasional restaurant dinner Mr Novak might take you out on.”

“I knew making pasta tonight was a good idea,” Dean jokes. “But that’s a bummer.”

Pamela replies, “You get used to it eventually. Listen, Dean. I would love to talk more since you sound really fun, but I have like ten other calls to make. God, I can’t wait for you to take this job. Enjoy your pasta.”

Pamela hangs up and Dean leans into his chair, watching the steam rise from the hot spaghetti.

The rest of the week passes relatively fast. Sam FaceTimes him, sometimes with his current girlfriend Eileen. The two of them had gotten an apartment of their own during their last year at Stanford University. Sam studied law and was interviewing at multiple firms to get a job while Eileen already had one as a teaching assistant to get a feel of the reins. She did early childhood if Dean remembered correctly.

Pamela called again on Saturday to tell Dean to check in with the clerk when he comes in on Monday and that she’ll let Castiel know that he’s reached work. Otherwise, the week went by quietly and Dean tried to take in every silent moment, knowing it might be a long time before he gets to feel peace like that again. He even befriends his neighbour, a cute old lady with two dogs, named ‘Thor’ and ‘Loki’ because she loved Norse mythology. She tells him she wants to get a third dog and name it ‘Freyja’.

Eventually, Monday comes around and it’s time for his first day at work. He woke up to texts from his friends and it settles his nerves.

 **[November 3, 2014, 7:15 AM]**  
**Sam Winchester:** _Good luck at work. Don’t make an ass of yourself. Eileen says just be yourself but nobody wants that._

 **[November 3, 2014, 7:21 AM]**  
**Jo Harvelle:** _GOOD LUCK DEAN!!!_

 **[November 3, 2014, 8:02 AM]**  
**Bobby Singer:** _Ellen and I hope you have a good first day, son._

He sends a few ‘thank you’ texts (and a ‘fuck you’ to Sam) before he gets dressed in the outfit he picked out last week. Making sure he has what he needs, he locks the door and heads out into the world.

Dean steps through the doors of the _NOVAK_ building and breathes in deeply. It’s like the start of a new adventure, as cliché as it sounds. He feels like fashion school is paying off — and yeah, maybe being a personal assistant doesn’t have much to do with fashion, but Dean has a plan. He’s going to build up a good rapport with Castiel Novak and when the time is right, he’ll show him his portfolio and hopefully, he’ll be promoted to a _NOVAK_ designer. To work at one of the top high fashion brands in the world as his first job would be a huge honour.

He walks up to the counter in the lobby where a girl was sitting, filing her nails while reading something off of the computer screen, her brown hair tumbling off her leather-clad shoulder. He clears his throat and smooths a hand over his blazer, introducing, “Hey, I’m Dean Winchester. I’m Castiel Novak’s new personal assistant. I was told to check in with you.”

She looks up and nods, giving him a once-over, “Oh, yeah. I’ll ring him up. My name is Lisa. Nice to meet you, Dean.”

“You too,” he smiles. She winks at him and then turns to the phone, pressing a few buttons.

“Mr Novak? Dean Winchester is here,” she says. “Alright, I’ll send him up.” She hangs up and stands, leaning over the counter slightly to direct Dean towards the elevator, “He’s not here yet, but his office is on the highest level. Go up from there, turn right and then left down the hallway. That’s him.”

“Thanks,” Dean nods once, waving goodbye as he walks to the elevator. The building isn’t horrendously high, only being about ten stories tall.

“Hold the door!”

Dean presses the ‘open’ button and a redhead runs in. Dean eyes her outfit. It’s entirely Chanel; a black wool crepe coat, cotton navy and white blouse, black crepe de chine and black satin and strass sandals. She looks good, it makes her red hair stand out. He recognizes her, though.

“Thanks,” she beams. “I’m Charlie Bradbury.”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean replies.

She looks him up and down, smiling. “I love your outfit, by the way. Vivienne Westwood?”

“Yep,” Dean says. “Got it as a gift.”

“It looks so good on you,” she compliments. “You’re going to level ten? Are you the new P.A.?”

Dean nods, smiling, “My first day.”

“Awesome! We should have lunch together later. My office is at level 8 but I’ll come up to meet you,” Charlie invites. “Me, Kev and Balthazar eat together most days. Sometimes Pam, Meg and Missouri join us.”

“Okay, sure,” Dean accepts. “This is bothering me; Were you at the airport with Castiel Novak and some Asian guy last week?”

She perks up with a smile, “Oh my God, yeah.” She moves the notebook under her arm to her other, freeing up her hand to shake Dean’s. “I was asked to get you today.”

Dean shakes her hand, saying in confusion, “I thought Pamela was supposed to get me.”

“Pamela couldn’t be here right now so I offered to get you all settled in,” she explains. “Pam used to help keep some of Mr Novak’s events in order but since you’re here now, you’ll be doing that.” 

The doors open and Charlie starts walking at a fast pace, Dean trailing behind as he looks around. The office is packed, random racks of collection pieces standing around the hallways and people running from room to room, speaking into phones. She says, “So, this is Mr Novak’s office level. The entire level is just his, yours, Missouri’s and Pam’s.”

She rounds the corner to Castiel’s office, a desk right outside the door, and dumps the planner notebook in her arms onto Dean’s desk and explains, “All the events he’s currently had organized are here. Pam is giving this to you to use, guard it with your life. Lose it and he’ll have your head. Keep track of everything here. Trust me, planner notebooks are your new best friend.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, taking it in. His desk is pretty spacious but he suspects that it’ll be overflowing soon enough. “How accurate would you say _The Devil Wears Prada_ is?”

Charlie grins widely in amusement, “First off; great movie. Love me some powerful women. Second; it’s pretty close. Good luck, Andy.”

She checks her phone’s clock and informs him, “Mr Novak usually comes in at 9:30, so you’ve got like ten minutes to go get him coffee.”

“What’s his coffee order?” Dean asks.

She grabs a post-it and clicks the pen in her pocket, scribbling as she reads out, “One no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk. Make it super hot.” She puts the pen down and passes it to Dean, “It’s your first day so maybe he’ll cut you slack, but maybe it’ll help make a good first impression. Just don’t get the order wrong because he’s twice as grumpy in the morning. You should go now if you wanna make it back before Mr Novak does.”

Dean runs back into the office with a minute to spare before it hits 9:30 and he sighs loudly in relief as the doors open and Castiel isn’t there yet. As soon as he reaches his desk and sets down Castiel’s coffee, he sees the Asian guy from the airport run past into the other elevator, and he quickly realizes that that means Castiel has arrived.

Castiel walks in, in a Prada double-breasted wool coat, hanging open at the front to show the black Givenchy slim-fit tuxedo in wool and mohair with a satin collar. His black hair is styled to look purposefully messy, but it admittedly looked sexy, and his eyes stand out so piercingly.

Quick estimation in Dean's head brings the price of everything on Castiel's body to at least 5000 bucks. _Holy shit._

Castiel walks into the office and Dean holds out the coffee to him, unsure if he was supposed to leave it on his desk or give it to him when he walks past. Castiel slows and takes the coffee from him, raising an eyebrow, "What did you get?"

"One no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk," Dean echoes the order from his memory. "And I made sure it's hotter than Hell, sir."

Castiel nods approvingly, drinking the coffee without even blowing to cool it down. It shocks Dean but he doesn't show it, simply watching silently while Castiel downs the drink. When Castiel is done, he sets the empty cup on Dean's desk and says, "Welcome to _NOVAK_. You're Dean Winchester?"

"That's me," Dean affirms. "Thanks for hiring me."

"Play your cards right, you'll win a long, fantastic career in this industry and it won't even be a gamble," Castiel advises. "Grab a phone or your notebook, walk with me."

"Where are we going?"

Castiel answers, putting down his laptop bag in his office before coming back out, "I need to check in on different departments. You don't have to come with me, just walk me to the elevator. I have things to update you on." Dean follows Castiel as they walk out into the hallways, and at first, Dean thinks Castiel will just give him a few notes at the elevator but then he starts talking.

“Confirm with Bradley Cooper for when he’s coming to pick up his suit for the Hollywood Film Awards. I worked hard on that one, I’ve got a feeling _Guardians of the Galaxy_ might win something,” Castiel rattles off as Dean follows hurriedly. He sure walks fast for someone shorter than him. Dean quickly pulls out his phone and starts typing. “I’ll be attending the event as well, so book me for November 14th at LA. You’ll be coming with me. We’re flying there, so renew your passport if you haven’t because there will be flights in the coming months to overseas so you might as well renew it now. The flight will be paid for. Let me know when you’ve booked the tickets.”

Dean nods, typing desperately. “Yes, sir.”

“And there’s going to be Fashion Week in two months. I haven’t decided who will be going with me yet, but note down that Gabriel and you will definitely be coming along. Just in case, tell Balthazar Freely, Meg Masters, Pamela Barnes, Kevin Tran, and Charlie Bradbury to keep their schedules free,” Castiel continues as Dean scrambles to key it into his phone’s notes. The words are misspelt and shortened, skipping most of the vowels, but he’ll just clean up the notes when he gets the time to do so. “Help me check which ones Bela Talbot and Lucian Morningstar will be attending.”

Dean nods, ducking just in time to dodge a hat being strewn across the hallway. He asks, trying to keep up with Castiel’s quick pace, “Do you usually attend all of them?”

“Sometimes,” Castiel says, dumping the coats into the arms of a woman walking past. She takes it in stride, smoothly intercepting the coats and keeps on walking, to Dean’s astonishment. “In the last two seasons, I did New York and then Milan and Paris.”

“What about this season, sir?” Dean asks, turning to his side so a hairstylist, bottle of hair dye in her hand, can run down the hallway with no obstructions.

Castiel answers, opening the door to his right, “Just New York and probably Paris. I might catch the tail end of Milan if clients for the Academy Awards don’t run long. We’ll be working on those outfits even while at the Fashion Weeks. Make sure Meg, Balthazar, and Pamela get me those design sketches by 2 tomorrow for review.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean mutters, fingers flying across his screen. It occurs to him belatedly that he should just voice record Castiel next time and transcribe everything later.

Castiel pauses halfway into the elevator. Dean halts abruptly, narrowly missing Castiel, and Castiel says, “Oh, and call Margot Robbie, check if she still wants me to style her for the Golden Globes. That’s all, thank you, Winchester.” The door slides shut in Dean’s face and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He walks back to his desk, running it over under his breath, “Okay, okay. Gabriel and I are going to Fashion Week, check for Bela and Lucian, tell Pam, Kevin, Charlie, Balthazar, and Meg to stay free... Book him for New York, hold off on Paris and Milan. No for London. Check with designers for AA sketches... What else, what else...” He squeezes his eyes, trying to remember everything. “Shit, yeah, call Margot Robbie and Bradley Cooper. Fuck, book our flights for November 14th to LA.”

He scrambles all over his desk, trying to find the notebooks. Once he retrieves it, he grabs a pen and starts scribbling down memos. When it’s all noted down, he picks up the phone and goes through the company’s database, finding the number for Margot Robbie’s agent.

“Hello, Castiel Novak’s office calling,” Dean starts once the call is picked up. “Calling to ask if Mr Novak is still up to style Margot Robbie for the Golden Globes? Yes? Okay, I’ll let him know it’s still on. Thank you, ma’am.” He dials for Bradley Cooper’s agent and repeats the conversation before he finally hangs up, sighing loudly as he collapses into his seat. 

The Asian guy from earlier comes back in and greets, “Hey, man. I’m Kevin.” He’s dressed simply; just a jacket, shirt, and pants from H&M. It can’t be more than $100 in total but it looked good.

“Dean,” Dean returns. “Oh, yeah. Novak says you should keep your schedule free in case you’re coming for Fashion Week.”

“He says that every year, I know,” Kevin assures. “He said Balthazar, Meg, Charlie, and Pam, too, right? Don’t worry, we all free up our time for that month just as a precaution.”

“Good, good. One less thing for me to do,” Dean nods, going over his notes and transferring them into the planner.

Kevin leans against the desk and asks, “How’s your first day so far, P.A.?”

Dean exhales, “He literally just walked in and there was so much shit to do.” 

Kevin laughs, shaking his head, “That’s the life of a fashion titan’s personal assistant. Well, if you need any help, my office is down four levels from here.”

“What are you working as?” Dean asks.

“I’m a garment technologist,” Kevin answers. “I figure out cloth and all that, make new materials or whatever. It’s a pretty cool job, my office is like four levels down, though. The other offices on this floor other than Castiel’s are Missouri's, the merchandiser, Pamela, who does PR and our marketing director who got fired a while back.”

“Why’d they get fired?” Dean questions, frowning.

Kevin replies, a pitiful smile on his face, “He messed up with the distribution of promotional posters for the _NOVAK_ x _Armani_ Winter collection we did.”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, “I don’t remember seeing that collection.”

“It’s not out yet. The guy was supposed to send the posters out to retail stores but he mailed them all to the wrong address and they ended up in an old crackhouse or something,” Kevin says, voice low as if sharing some big secret. “When Castiel found out, he got so mad. Fired him and sent him off with a testimonial so awful that I think he just decided to pretend he never worked here.”

“Oh my God,” Dean breathes. 

“But don’t worry!” Kevin quickly says, realizing that he may be psyching Dean out. “He won’t ask you to do that kind of thing. You’re just keeping track of events, picking up stuff and calling people for him. Posters and all that will be the next marketing director’s job. Yours is good.”

“Jesus. I hope I don’t fuck up,” Dean mutters.

“Relax, it’ll be fine,” Kevin assures. “Listen, I’ll come back up here around noon to grab you for lunch with my friends. You up for it?”

“Charlie already invited me. I’ll see you guys then,” Dean nods, trying to smile even though Kevin’s tale spooked him out. Kevin grins and pats him on the back once in encouragement before he leaves for the elevator once again to return to level 6. 

Dean looks through the company’s database and finds a few Gabriels, but he finds one who shares a last name with Castiel and he hopes that’s the correct Gabriel. He’s apparently a makeup artist for the company.

“Hello, Gabriel?” Dean asks once the call picks up.

“Ooh, don’t recognize that voice. Is this the P.A.? Dan Winchester?” 

“Dean,” he corrects. “And yeah. Mr Novak asked me to tell you that you’re coming for --“

Gabriel cuts over him, “For Fashion Week. I go with him every year. Perks of being head of makeup and his big bro. You’re coming too, I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, I am,” Dean affirms.

“Good. I’ll see you around, kid. Gotta go, this face isn’t gonna beat itself.”

“Sorry, _beat_?” Dean repeats, bewildered.

Gabriel pauses before he realizes why Dean is so concerned and he clarifies, laughing, “Beating a face just means I'm applying godly makeup. Lord, I wouldn’t hit a woman. Could you imagine?” He doesn’t give Dean time to answer before saying, “Okay, really can’t stay on the call anymore. Also, news that Cassie has a P.A. now is gonna spread like wildfire. The calls aren’t piling up right now but you’re gonna want to keep that line open. And you should learn how to read cursive, you’re gonna need to write fast. Good luck, kid.”

Gabriel hangs up just as the elevator doors open and Castiel comes back in.

“Everything settled?” Castiel asks.

“Called Bradley Cooper and Margot Robbie’s agents, everyone’s informed and I’m gonna book the flights for LA,” Dean says. “Otherwise, it’s all done.”

“Not bad, Winchester,” Castiel says, a hint of a smile on his face. He looks good when he smiles. “Right, let me know when you’ve booked it. Do you need help with figuring out how to use the company funds? I apologize for running off without showing you the ropes, but I was in a hurry.”

“It’s okay, I know how to do it,” Dean waves dismissively. The program is easy enough to navigate and it doesn’t take long for Dean to get to the company funds. Any passwords he needs to use are already written on a post-it for him on the computer screen, so it’s even more convenient.

Castiel nods, folding his arms, “Alright. Well, once you’re done with the flights, you may go off for lunch until I call you back. It’s your first day so I’ll handle some of the loose ends on my own.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you with those?” Dean asks. He figures if he’s gonna kiss ass, he should start now.

Castiel shakes his head, “I can do it, Winchester, but thanks for offering.” As soon as he turns to walk into his office, a blonde Englishman runs in, donning full a black Versace suit. "Balthazar?"

“Cassie, where’s Cassie?” Balthazar asks, rushing into the office. Dean points right in front of him, confused by his rush, just as Balthazar’s eyes land in Castiel and he blurts out, “Rowena MacLeod might be free!”

Castiel unfolds his arms, leaning forward as his eyes widen, “Quitting or getting fired?”

“Unknown,” Balthazar says hurriedly. “There’s talk that she’s faltering in her position at Gucci, I think something about not getting paid what she deserves but I could be wrong. Cassie, it's now or never.”

Castiel turns to Dean and snaps his fingers, ordering, “Get me Rowena MacLeod.”

“Um, do we have her number?” Dean is almost afraid to ask. Balthazar shoots him a sharp look and Castiel lingers, giving Dean a once-over.

“No, so this is your chance to prove that you were the right hire.” Castiel smiles wryly. “Get me Rowena.” Once Castiel is away in his office, Balthazar suggests checking the company’s database before he quickly leaves the room to tend to other pressing business.

Dean’s eyes scan the company’s contacts list, trying to locate any MacLeods and finally, he finds one; Crowley. He calls the number listed and waits until it goes through. A British man is on the other end; His voice is what Dean imagines whiskey would sound like.

“Crowley MacLeod. State your business.”

“Hi, I wanted to ask if you knew Rowena MacLeod’s contact,” Dean requests in his most polite voice. “I assume you know her because of your last names...”

“She’s my mother, actually,” Crowley clarifies. “Who is this? You don’t sound like that PR girl who always does his calls.”

Dean answers, “His P.A. Dean Winchester.”

“Interesting. Wings caved and finally got a P.A.,” Crowley says, amused. Dean wonders why he calls Castiel ‘Wings’. “Did he say this was a test?”

“Kind of,” Dean mumbles, drumming his fingers on his desk anxiously. If Rowena is as in-demand as she seems to be that Castiel wanted her instantly, then every second he spends on the phone with Crowley is another second someone else could be picking her up, and another second closer to Dean possibly getting fired on his first day from a fashion house titan.

“I apologize on Wings’ behalf. He tends to be too hard on his people when he’s jumpy,” Crowley says. “Alright, I’ll make your life a little easier. Mother, someone on the phone for you. Novak.”

A Scottish woman’s cheery voice shocks Dean as she says, “Oh, hello. I’m Rowena. Is this Mr Novak?”

“This is his assistant, ma’am,” Dean replies, finger hovering over the button on the phone. “I’ll connect you to him. Give me a moment.”

“Thank you, dear,” Rowena says.

Dean holds a hand over the receiver, barely able to hold back the grin on his face as he calls out, “I have Rowena!” He redirects the call to Castiel’s office and watches as he picks up the phone, speaking. He looks up and connects eyes with Dean, and a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he turns to look out the office window.

Dean books the tickets while waiting for Castiel to finish the call, and after fifteen minutes, Castiel hangs up and walks out to Dean’s desk. He looks up at his boss, asking, “I’ve booked the flights, business suite. How did the call go, sir?”

Castiel nods once, formal, and says, “It went well. Rowena MacLeod starts work here in two weeks. Change her in the company’s database to the marketing director of NOVAK instead of Gucci. When she comes in on Monday in two weeks' time, you will show her to her office. Do you know where it is?”

“Down the hall, Kevin told me,” Dean says.

“Not bad, Winchester. Keep this up,” Castiel says. He pauses, lingering for a second. ”And that's a great outfit. I like Westwood.”

A grin splits across Dean’s face.

“How was your first day, man?”

“My boss totally digs me,” Dean grins. “He said to keep up the good work.”

“That’s awesome, Dean,” Sam replies, eating his dinner as he types something on his laptop. Dean FaceTimed Sam as soon as he got home from his first day and caught him while he was making changes to his resumé during dinner. Eileen made them sushi and she promised to make Dean some when they come to visit in March. “Did he like your clothes?”

“Said he likes Westwood,” Dean replies, digging through his drawers to find his passport. “As soon as I’ve got cash, I’m gonna get more Westwood.”

Sam laughs, “Don’t blow all your money. That shit gets old real quick.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah.” His eyes light up with triumph and he lifts his passport, grinning victoriously. “Found it.”

“Dude, your first awards show, though,” Sam redirects the conversation. “Eileen’s all excited about it. Who are you gonna meet.”

“Man, I don’t know. Novak said to stick close to him when we’re there since I’m new. But he said we’ll check in with his personal clients so I might get to meet some celebrities. I’ll let you know if I do,” Dean says excitedly. “I can’t wait for this LA trip. I’ve never been to LA.”

“Me neither,” Sam says wistfully. The mood dampens slightly when Sam adds, “I used to have this recurring dream when I was a kid. I don’t get it anymore, but it was like... you, me and Dad in LA. I don’t know why I had it, I don’t know what LA’s like, but I kept getting that dream. I just wish Dad was more of a dad and took us, you know?”

“I know, Sammy,” Dean mumbles, checking that his passport is still valid. “But he made his choice when he ran off. Bobby’s been a stand-up dad for us anyway.”

Sam perks up a little at that, “Yeah, you’re right.” He looks away from the screen for a moment to sign to Eileen off-screen — Dean really needs to learn sign language when he gets the time — and Sam looks back apologetically, “Sorry, man. Gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye, Sam,” Dean says, hanging up as Sam waves goodbye. Regardless of the reminder of the awful father that was John Winchester, nothing could make him feel upset. Sure, maybe John walked out on them when Dean was 7 because their mom died, and maybe he never even called to check, but Dean’s got a great family in the Singer-Harvelles and his pretty hot boss just told him his outfit is _great_ and that he did a good job. So, really, who gives a fuck about John Winchester?

The flight to Los Angeles has Dean anxious. Being left by your father before you turned 10 and then being raised by a family who isn’t exactly ready to take in two more boys means that Dean never gets many chances to ride a plane. It’s not his first time, but it still gets him just as nervous.

He’s next to Castiel in the plane's business suite and they’ve been in the air for five minutes now, and he’s just humming Metallica under his breath.

“Are you humming?” Castiel asks, staring at him.

“Is it bothering you, sir? I’m sorry,” Dean apologizes. “Flying makes me... jumpy, I guess.”

“No, I understand,” Castiel replies. “I was fearful my first few times flying, but you’ll get used to it. If it helps, you can hold my hand. Kevin comes along sometimes and he’s scared of flying too so I let him.”

Dean hesitates but decides that if he’s offering, then maybe it won’t be so bad. He tentatively slides his hand into Castiel’s. At the risk of sounding straight out of a teenage romance book, Dean thinks their hands fit perfectly.

Dean holds Castiel’s hand tightly for the five-hour flight and coupled with some Metallica, it turns out that flying isn’t so bad.

The plane lands with no hitches and then it’s instantly off to get picked up by the taxi that will apparently take them to Bradley Cooper’s hotel so Castiel can style him for that night’s award show. Dean asks, “Wait, I’m gonna see him with you?”

Castiel frowns, “Well, yes. He’s my client and you’re my assistant. Where else would you be?”

“I just assumed you’d want me to leave you alone while you did your thing,” Dean says, realizing belatedly how pathetic he sounds.

“Nonsense,” Castiel scoffs. “I suppose this doesn’t need to be said, but Charlie did lose her mind the first time she met Angelina Jolie two years ago, so just be mindful of your behaviour.”

Dean doesn’t freak out meeting the A-list actor, surprisingly enough, and he doesn’t lose his shit when he gets complimented on the full Ralph Lauren suit that Castiel loaned him from the company’s storage. He doesn’t even spaz out in the limousine ride to the venue with the celebrity in question sitting right across from them.

Technically, it would be _two_ celebrities, right? Castiel himself was one as well, one of the world’s most famous high fashion designers. Either way, Dean had to admit he was impressed with how well he’s keeping his cool.

He doesn’t freak out when they step out of the limousine onto a red carpet and there are cameras flashing in his face. He can barely make out photographers shouting over the music and each other, asking the actor and Castiel on who Dean was. He thinks Castiel answered one of the photographers, but he could be wrong. Castiel pulls him along by his sleeve and by the time Dean adjusts to the significantly less crowded space, he realizes Bradley Cooper has disappeared into the crowd, probably finding his co-stars or friends.

Castiel keeps him close the whole night, introducing him to celebrities he knows personally and meeting ones he’s never spoken to before, all the while Dean gets to meet them.

When they hand out the awards, Dean has to admit that Castiel’s foresight is amazing — _Guardians of the Galaxy_ does actually win an award, and the spectacular NOVAK suit Castiel constructed himself gets to be on full display on Bradley Cooper when the cast goes to accept the award together.

“It looks amazing, sir,” Dean compliments. “I mean that cut, the colour in that lighting? Wow.”

“Thank you, Winchester,” Castiel smiles. “It does look incredible there.”

Dean decides that applying at NOVAK is one of the best decisions he’s ever made. He could learn a lot from Castiel. And, in due time, he could really build up his own reputation; the mentee of fashion legend Castiel Novak who was taught by him how to make a perfect suit, how to pick the correct fabric, how to really bring a piece to life. Hopefully, someday, Dean can live comfortably in the life he so badly wants to live with the career he wants. 

John Winchester walking out on them like they didn’t matter to him won’t matter anymore, long in the past, and Dean can get Bobby, Ellen and Jo a better home than that tiny house that’s barely holding together, and he can buy the best materials to make Sam and Eileen’s wedding outfits because who are any of them kidding with, they’re just a matter of time anyway.

And maybe, just maybe, he won’t smell his mother’s burning dress when he’s trying to go to sleep.


	2. ma foi

_My name is more important than myself._   
**Pierre Cardin**

“Morning, Dean,” Missouri greets in that bird-like voice of hers. After having lunch with her a few times the past month, Dean has grown fond of her and a few other co-workers that Charlie had taken upon herself to introduce her to. He finally met Pamela Barnes and she checks in with him every once in a while and helps if there’s something he’s unsure about.

When Castiel doesn’t have any business, Dean takes the time to visit other departments. Kevin’s workshop is really cool, full of fabric and materials, some of which Dean hasn’t even seen or felt before. Kevin promises to give him a few yards of some very smooth silk he developed that shines like the mother of pearl. Charlie is busy with keeping NOVAK retail stores stocked and making sure what goes into the stores are pieces people want to buy. She used to be a stylist at NOVAK but she assured Dean that she preferred the business side of fashion.

He got a chance to formally meet Balthazar Freely and Meg Masters, both of which are designers. The two get along really well and Dean can see why; sarcastic and probably a little sadistic. He also met Gabriel, Castiel’s older brother; He’s very different from the creative director. He works as the head of the cosmetics department and he was often in charge of the makeup on NOVAK runways and photoshoots. Gabriel apparently learned how to do makeup in his childhood so he would have something in common with girls and befriend them, but he ended up growing a legitimate interest in it and followed his younger brother into the fashion industry. While Castiel is usually serious and grounded, Gabriel is light-hearted and playful. Apparently, he’d earned the nicknames of ’Trickster’ and ‘Loki’ around the office.

Castiel himself is an enigma. More often than not, Castiel comes in, spills orders onto Dean’s desk and then leaves to handle other business. Dean rarely gets to see him for more than five minutes at a time which is bewildering as his personal assistant. Though, he did get to see him a little more recently so Dean chalked it up to how he was probably just busy with tying up all the loose ends before he hired Dean.

Castiel is high-strung as of late, for lack of a better way to describe him. He’s trying to complete custom pieces for actors for the upcoming Golden Globes event in January and had to get started on the pieces for the Academy Awards. Dean has been running all over the city collecting materials and accessories from NOVAK’s warehouse for Fashion Week in February.

The general mood of the office is that everyone is getting fidgety with so many events and pieces to complete. 

Castiel comes in at 9:30 sharp and Dean is ready with his coffee, “Morning, sir. For today, you’ve got business lunch with Alessandro Michele at 12 at Eleven Madison Park, and a Summer photoshoot with Next Management’s models at 2. That’s gonna run on till 5, according to their manager. After that, dinner with Tessa Reaper at Le Bernardin at 6. Bela Talbot wants to call you at 7:30.”

“Tell her to call me at 8,” Castiel says, dumping his Armani coat on his chair. “Dinner with Tessa will run on, she doesn’t eat quickly and I like talking to her.”

“Okay,” Dean nods, writing it down. “Anything else?”

“I need 10 to 15 skirts from Calvin Klein,” Castiel says. “I don’t have time to prepare a specific list for you but your resumé said you were a stylist. I’ll trust that you can select skirts thoughtfully. Make sure that they are all different.” 

Dean scribbles in his planner. “I’ll be careful.”

“And make sure we have Pier 59 at 8 AM tomorrow. “Remind Charlie I need to see a few of those satchels that Marc Jacobs is planning to do for Fashion Week,” Castiel says. “I’m supposed to make jackets that match. And then tell Bela I’ll take Crowley if she isn’t available.”

“Available for what, sir?” Dean asks.

Castiel answers, pulling a different coat out from the rack, “For dinner tomorrow. Where is it?”

Dean refers to his notes quickly before answering, “Le Bernardin again, sir. Bela chose.”

“Of course it has to be a restaurant I’m already going to today,” Castiel sighs. “Cancel that, book it at Jean Georges, same time.” Dean nods again, noting it down, and Castiel asks, “Did Michael Kors confirm for that dress?”

“Checking right now, sir,” Dean says.

“Good, go,” Castiel replies. “I’ll be at the workshop with Kevin to continue work for the Golden Globes. Ring him up if you need to tell me anything or just come find me.”

“Nice Valentino, sir,” Dean suddenly blurts out. He’s got no idea why he said it. It has no relation to what Castiel told him, but Castiel smiles small.

“Nice Louboutins, Winchester,” he replies, glancing at Dean’s shoes.

Castiel is gone again and Dean gets to work calling Michael Kors. Missouri comes in, glancing around, “Is Castiel gone?”

“Just left,” Dean informs her. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing major. I wanted to show him some new merchandising,” Missouri says. “It can wait, I assume he’s busy with celebrity pieces right now. How is he holding up?”

“Nerves are at their end,” Dean answers. “Is he always like this?”

Missouri frowns, “The poor angel. You know, he’s run this label for three years now but Fashion Week still gets him all riled up. I’m not sure if I’ll be there with him in February, but I know you and Gabriel will be, so take care of him, alright? He tends to slip up a lot.”

“Of course, yeah,” Dean nods.

Dean wonders what Castiel is like during Fashion Week (Fashion _Month_ , more like) if he’s as unstable as Missouri makes him out to be. He wonders if he has a bad habit — smoking, drinking, drugs, what?

“How bad does Mr Novak get during Fashion Week?” Dean asks the moment he catches Gabriel in the cafeteria. Castiel left for his 12 o’clock lunch an hour ago and would be back in, at most, half an hour, so Dean decided that he could spare time to get lunch with friends. He already asked Calvin Klein for skirts and can go down to collect them later in the day.

Gabriel pulls a face and replies, “Worst he was, was the first Fashion Week he was part of. Drank himself half-blind. He can get pretty bad but that’s the worst.” He pats Dean’s shoulder before grabbing a glazed doughnut, “But it might be different this time. He’s got you around to help be the calm in that storm, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Dean says, unconvinced. He’s not sure how much help he could be.

After choosing their food, they go to the table they always sit at. Charlie, Kevin, Pam, and Meg are there, and Charlie waves happily. “Hi, boys.”

“Hey, kiddo,” Gabriel greets.

“Novak needs to see the satchels that Marc Jacobs is planning for Fashion Week,” Dean tells Charlie.

Charlie sighs, joking, and says, “It’s all business with you, Dean. Relax.”

Dean grins easily, asking, “Anything new?”

Meg drawls, “ELLE mag wants to talk to me, so that’s something.”

“Meg! That’s awesome!” Charlie says excitedly. Dean liked being around her; Charlie is so overwhelmingly positive and her happiness was contagious. It’s almost impossible to be in a bad mood when she’s near. They talk until Dean’s meal has long been finished and then Dean realizes belatedly that Castiel has probably been back for at least half an hour. He says his goodbyes and clears his tray, rushing upstairs and praying that Castiel left the lunch in a good mood.

When he reaches the top level, Castiel is already at the elevator door, saying, “We’re leaving for the studio right now.”

“Oh, okay,” Dean stutters, making space in the elevator for Castiel to come in. He presses the fifth level button and Dean blurts out, “I’m sorry I ran late, sir. I was having lunch.”

“Don’t be late again,” Castiel says tightly. The doors slide open with a ding and he walks down the hall to a studio, Dean following guiltily.

The photographer, a guy named Gadreel Eden, greets Castiel, saying, “Good afternoon, Mr Novak. The models will be here anytime now.”

Castiel looks like he’s barely holding back the urge to roll his eyes as he replies, “That’s fine, we’re a little early anyway. But where the fuck is the collection?”

“On the way up, Mr Novak,” Gadreel answers anxiously, eyes darting to the door as if it’ll make the clothes pick up the pace. The studio is in a mess — lights are only half set up and the cameras are getting cleared of photos from previous shoots. Dean faintly winces; Castiel probably wouldn’t like that.

“Why the f—“ Castiel cuts himself off, sighing loudly. “Tell Duma to get the collection here in the next five minutes or she’s out.” Gadreel quickly runs off to call Duma and Dean hangs back awkwardly. He’s in a bad mood. “Winchester.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean acknowledges.

“Where are we on Calvin Klein?”

“I was going to collect the skirts after lunch but I ran late...” Dean trails off, his voice pathetically growing progressively quiet with every word.

Castiel scoffs and shakes his head, looking at Gadreel as he asks loudly, “Where is Duma with that damn collection?”

“Almost here,” Gadreel placates. “Any second now...”

“Where is that makeup team Gabriel sent?” Castiel interrupts.

“On the way —“

“On the way, on the way. Why the _fuck_ is no one ready?” Castiel mutters, disappointment and annoyance dripping from his tone. “Eden, I swear to Christ, if Duma and the makeup team isn’t here in the next two minutes, none of you needs to come in for work tomorrow.”

“Hey, you need to chill the hell out,” Dean snaps. Gadreel stares at Dean like he’s just killed Gabriel in front of Castiel.

“Excuse me?” Castiel turns sharply to Dean. 

“This is just some really great thing, you know? Fashion. I live it, I breathe it, God knows I’m lucky to work it under your management,” Dean says. “But I won’t let you push me, or them, around like this. I need boundaries if I’m going to be doing this shit for you.”

“You need _boundaries_?” Castiel almost laughs. Dean already feels hints of regret edging their way into his mind and Gadreel bites his lip nervously. “Let me remind you that you’re here because you want to work in fashion, and nothing in fashion is easy. There are no limits to the discomfort and unease you will feel in this industry. If this is too hard for you, then I apologize, but that’s not my problem.”

“Sir, this —“

“I have five Golden Globes outfits to complete in the next month. I need to prepare my collections for Fashion Week and I have three Academy Awards outfits to do during said Fashion Week, and they can’t even be ready for _one_ _goddamn_ _photoshoot_!” Castiel explodes. “I have many other problems, Winchester. Boundaries and limits mean _shit_ here.”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Duma announces, bursting through the doors with a rack of the collection pieces. “I’m so sorry, Mr Novak.”

“Get them prepped for the models when they arrive,” Castiel orders. Duma nods and runs off to prepare the outfits and Castiel turns back to Dean. “If you want boundaries, then get a job somewhere else. This isn’t for you.”

Gadreel says quietly, “Mr Novak, the models are waiting outside. Should I let them in?”

“Are we going to have a problem, Winchester?” Castiel asks, challenging him to talk back to him one more time. The adrenaline that fuelled Dean’s will to stand up to Castiel earlier on had drained out of him completely.

“No, sir,” Dean says stiffly.

“Let them in,” Castiel says, giving Dean one last stare-down before a plastic grin flashes on his face as he welcomes the models in and he thanks them for coming.

Gadreel whispers to Dean, “Dude, what the hell was that? Do you have a death wish?”

“I don’t know where that came from,” Dean frets. “Do you think he will fire me? He will, won't he?”

“I don’t know, but you should try to fix this ASAP,” Gadreel suggests, clapping a hand on Dean’s shoulder as a gesture of good luck before he goes to finish setting up his camera.

The models come back out half an hour later, light and natural makeup painted on their faces while they donned unreleased NOVAK pieces. Gadreel and his team take the photographs as Castiel watches, occasionally giving direction and approving photos.

Castiel doesn’t notice Dean slip out of the studio and if he does, he doesn’t react.

Dean dials Sam’s number and listens to it ring until Sam’s voice breaks the pattern, “Dean, what’s up?”

“I fucked up, Sammy,” Dean tells him what happened and berates himself for losing it so easily until Sam tries to calm him down. Normally, Dean wouldn’t be this concerned about getting fired over snapping at his boss, but this is his first job in the fashion industry. It’s new territory, and his boss has been pissed since he came back, and he just threatened to fire like ten people, so Dean isn’t gonna rely on his luck. Anything could happen with Castiel.

“Hey, you did the right thing. He shouldn’t have been talking to them like that,” Sam assures. “But if you feel this bad about it, then you could try to undo the damage, do something good. What could you do?”

"I don’t know, man. I think he's gonna fire me by the end of today,” Dean mutters. He can hear his heart in his chest. “I wouldn’t normally worry but he’s been in a bad mood since I came back late from lunch and then the whole thing I told you about how nobody was ready for the shoot... How am I supposed to turn this around?”

“Maybe start with apologising,” Sam suggests. “Then, I don’t know, you could just overdo everything. Get ahead of his requests.”

“Yeah, yeah, I could do that,” Dean nods, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know what came over me, man.”

Sam says, “Well, I never knew you to be the kind of guy who just stood around and let people get bullied.”

“It’s not his fault, though, and I knew that,” Dean mumbles. “Missouri told me he gets all frazzled when Fashion Week’s coming up. It’s probably just nerves that’s making him act like this and I just made it worse. God, I am a shitty P.A.”

Sam sighs, “Dean, you are _not_ a shitty P.A. Look, I have to go, my boss is calling me, but you got this, okay? I’ll call you tonight to find out how it went.”

“Okay. Bye, Sam.”

“Bye, Dean. Good luck, it’s gonna be okay.” Sam hangs up and Dean sighs once more before going back into the studio. Castiel doesn’t look his way once the rest of the time.

Dean decided to leave the studio a few minutes before Castiel does, mainly just in a sort of futile attempt to delay his inevitably firing. He’s actually not sure how high the possibility of him getting kicked out is since Castiel will need the extra help during Fashion Week, but it doesn’t hurt to bask in unearned hope.

He makes it back to the office just in time to see Rowena exit from the other elevator.

“Is Wings back from the photoshoot?” Rowena asks, anxiety crossing her face.

Dean frowns, “He’ll be back any moment now but I can take a message. What’s wrong?”

“It’s real bad, boy,” Rowena says lowly. “There’s an article that’ll be going into print today about him.”

“What about me?” Castiel asks before Dean can make the question himself. Rowena glances warily at Dean before leaning over to Castiel, whispering the answer into his ear.

Nine shades of fear cross Castiel’s features at the same time and he pales, asking, “Are you sure?”

“Aye, that’s what I heard,” she replies.

“ _Shit_ ,” Castiel mutters, taking out his phone and calling someone. “Lucian, you better take that article out of printing.” After a pause, Castiel’s anger flares on his face and he continues, “You bastard, if you print it, I will make you regret -- Don’t you _fucking_ hang up on --“

He balls a hand into a fist and grits his teeth, calling someone else instead. Rowena and Dean watch silently as Castiel talks. It’s so quiet in the office that if Dean strains his ears, he can faintly hear the other side of the call. “Anael, tell Ruby to take that article out.”

“No can do,” she replies glibly. “An article’s an article and it is sure to _sell_.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ if it sells or not. That’s my personal information, you have no right to sell it like this,” Castiel hisses into the receiver.

“That’s business, Mr Novak. I’m sorry, but you should have stopped it when you had the chance,” Anael mocks over the phone before she hangs up, infuriating Castiel so deeply that he slams a hand onto his desk, breathing heavily.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!” Castiel throws a file against the wall and pinches the bridge of his nose before running his hand over his face, looking between Dean and Rowena. Dean is frozen in place; he’d never seen his boss so angry in his two months of working for him. Castiel stares at Dean and it feels like forever until he moves, storming to the elevator, “For fuck’s sake, where’s Barnes when you need her?” Rowena trails behind him hurriedly, maybe to make sure he doesn’t wreak havoc all over the building in his rage.

Once he’s sure Castiel isn’t coming back, Dean starts heading for the other elevator. He’s certain that if he handles whatever it is that article is, he can undo the damage caused by his outburst. He finds his way to Charlie’s office and says, “I need your help, hacker.”

Charlie’s face lights up and she pulls out her personal laptop from her bag, pushing away account books to make way for it, “Hell yeah. What do you want me to do?”

“Dig up whatever you can find on Lucian Morningstar,” Dean requests, dragging a chair over to sit by her. 

While she types, she asks, “Any reason why you want dirt on a powerful fashion magazine director and designer?”

“I can’t tell you, I’m sorry,” Dean says. “What can you tell me about him?”

“Lucian owns Dark Angel, which is not only a fashion label but also his magazine. Castiel and he had never gotten along, especially after a scathing review Lucian had one of his writers do on his first runway show three years ago,” she explains. She continues typing until abruptly stopping, eyes widening. “And apparently, he’s big on tax evasion.”

“Perfect,” Dean nods, kissing her cheek and then standing. “Where can I find him?”

Charlie answers, “As his P.A., you’re allowed to use Castiel’s driver. Just tell him Dark Angel HQ and he’ll take you there.”

“Thanks, Charlie. You’re the best, I owe you one,” Dean says hurriedly, running out of her office to get to the elevator. Once he’s down in the lobby, he locates Castiel’s driver — wherever Castiel is, he probably decided to walk, or he’s somewhere in the building trying to reach Lucian. The driver thankfully knows where Dean wants to go and takes him there without any questions. Dean finds his way to the lobby and asks the clerk for Lucian, tells her that he’s Castiel’s personal assistant, and then he waits while she rings him up. 

Dean felt awful about snapping at Castiel like that. Yeah, the pressure on him was getting worse the closer Fashion Week gets, but if it’s bad for him then how bad must it be for Castiel? He’s the one doing most of the work and Dean’s just doing admin. Maybe that’s why he’s so driven to resolve this, sitting in the lobby Lucian Morningstar’s building to blackmail the guy into removing the article. He wonders what could have been in it that would spook Castiel out to that level.

No matter, Dean will just get him to take it out from the magazine and then he’ll have repaired his relations with Castiel. It’ll undo his damage.

“He said to go up yourself,” the clerk says. “Highest level. Take a left and you’re there.”

“Thanks,” Dean says.

Finding his office is easy but opening the door was harder. He has a brief flicker of worry that this will destroy his prospects, blackmailing a powerful magazine and label owner, but this is more important.

Lucian’s smile is mocking and smug when he asks, “Did Cassiel send you?”

“ _Castiel_ ,” Dean corrects, annoyed. “And no, he doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Then why are you here? We’ve never met,” Lucian asks, looking up at Dean from his seat.

“I want you to take the Castiel article out,” Dean demands. “I don’t know what it’s about and it doesn’t matter because he hates it so take it out.”

“Protective pet, aren’t you?” Lucian teases. “Don’t you think you deserve to know what it’s about?” He takes a mock-up of the magazine issue and pushes it across the desk to Dean. “First article. Read.”

Dean hesitates but ends up taking the mock-up, caving into his curiosity. He flips past the Kendall Jenner cover and finds the article with Castiel’s name slapped on the front, and his eyes widen as he reads it. He guesses that this probably isn’t as big of a surprise as it’s coming off, but he didn’t know about it before. It’s obviously not something Castiel wants spreading.

“Well, what do you think?” Lucifer asks, rounding the table to stand near Dean. “Really draws you in, doesn’t it?”

“He doesn’t want this out there. Take it down,” Dean says in a low voice, closing the mock-up and dropping it on the desk. 

Lucian grins wickedly, “Or else what? An ant can’t crush a boot, P.A.”

“An ant can’t crush a boot, you’re right,” Dean agrees. “So think of it this way; I’ll have you in for multiple counts of tax evasion.” He gestures to Lucian “Ant," — and to himself — “And boot.”

Lucian’s smile dims significantly, “You don’t have proof.”

“I’ve got all your accounts, Morningstar. It’s your game now,” Dean says, enjoying seeing Lucian squirm. “You know, I’ll make it easy for you. Trash the article and I’ll trash the proof.”

Lucian stares him down like he’s trying to break Dean with just his eyes. Dean doesn’t crack, there isn’t a lot that deeply scares Dean, and people don’t fall into that category. Well, except for Castiel, but he's his boss, it gets a pass. Finally, Lucian relents, “Fine. Delete it.”

“You first,” Dean bargains.

Lucian scowls at him and puts one of his employees on speakerphone. “Ruby.”

“Hey, Lucian. The magazine’s getting printed right now —"

“About that, we gotta cut that article,” Lucian cuts over, glaring at Dean. “Something’s cropped up, we can’t run the Novak piece.”

Ruby splutters over the phone, “What, but... What will we run then?”

“I don’t fucking know, that one bullshit piece that Belphegor kid did on Patricia Nicolás,” Lucian suggests bitterly. “Stop printing and switch that article out.”

“Fine,” Ruby says, and there’s the sound of printers whirring to a stop. “Do you want to save it for another issue?”

“Delete it all,” Lucian orders. “It’s a great article, Ruby, but we can’t run it.”

“Whatever,” Ruby mutters. “Anael said Novak called earlier about it, I guess I saw it coming. How much did he pay you to take it down?”

Lucian answers, “Nothing. His fucking P.A.’s pissing all over my desk about this shit. Don’t know why it matters to him.” Dean narrows his eyes at him and Lucian asks, “Is it deleted?”

“Gone,” Ruby affirms. “Editing Belph’s piece in now. Can I go now, Lucian?”

“Go,” Lucian says, hanging up. He looks up at Dean, “Happy?”

“Yeah,” Dean beams, plastic. “Try me or my boss again, see what else I dig up.” With that, Dean leaves, feeling light in his chest. Castiel is gonna be so relieved.

Dean returns to the office past 8 in the evening, seeing Castiel in his office with a bottle of wine open. He asks tentatively, “Sir, weren’t you supposed to be at dinner with Tessa Reaper?”

“I cancelled,” Castiel answers. “I couldn’t get Ruby to budge on the article and Lucian wouldn’t pick up my calls, so I’m done for.”

Dean holds back his smile as he says, “I took care of it.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel frowns, cocking his head in confusion.

“I felt really bad about snapping at you earlier. I shouldn’t have done that. I know you’re all tense about the awards shows and Fashion Weeks so I guess I should have been more understanding,” Dean starts. “Anyway, I felt awful and wanted to make it up for you. I got Charlie to hack Lucian’s accounts and I went to see him. I told him to remove the article about you or I’ll leak that he’s been evading his taxes for years. He told Ruby to delete the article.”

Castiel stares open-mouthed at Dean and for a second, Dean almost thinks the time has frozen until Castiel’s head drops into his hands. Castiel exhales shakily in relief, a small smile on his face. “Holy _shit_ , Winchester.“

“I owed you that,” Dean smiles in return.

“Thank you,” Castiel says and Dean can hear the adrenaline and alcohol in the way his voice trembles. Dean understands why he’s so shaken up about the article almost running. “I don’t know what I would have done if it printed.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about it, it won’t,” Dean assures. Castiel nods wearily and when he’s about to go back to his wine, Dean pipes up, “Sir, what was the article about?"

Castiel freezes, turning slightly to look at Dean. Dean isn’t sure what made him ask. He read the article and he knew what it said. Castiel asks quietly, “I would think you read it when you met Lucian.”

“I did,” Dean affirms. “I shouldn’t have in the first place and I’m sorry about that. So, I just thought you deserved a chance to tell me yourself.”

Castiel draws in a deep breath, looking around apprehensively as if someone will overhear. Most of the office had already emptied out because of how late it is, which leaves just Dean and Castiel, at least on their floor. He runs his hands over one another, clearly nervous, and falters, “Okay. I’m... It said — Gay. I’m gay.” Dean nods slowly and Castiel adds, “If it makes you uncomfortable, you may quit. I won’t argue.”

“Listen, I know we had a disagreement but I like working for you at the end of the day,” Dean says. “You check with me in case I’m still not used to the company program, you’re nice with your employees when you aren’t being tense as shit with your schedule.” Castiel is still shifting his weight uncomfortably, so Dean offers, “And hey if it makes you feel any better, I’m bi.”

Castiel pauses and he presses his lips together. “I see.”

“I wasn’t always so comfortable with saying it,” Dean says, hoping that he could make Castiel feel better. “When I got my first boyfriend, some guy named Lee, I was scared. But I didn’t want to hide anymore, so I told my brother and he still loved me, and so did my family. You know, sometimes it isn’t so bad.”

“I wish I was as unafraid as you,” Castiel mutters, his hands white at the knuckles. “I can’t — I’m not like you.”

“No, you’re not. Because I came out of my own choice and he tried to come out for you. It’s not the same, nobody could be ready for that,” Dean agrees and points out. “The point is, you’re still brave. I mean, you told me. That’s big on its own.” He reaches for the wine bottle, grinning in an attempt to ease Castiel’s nerves, “Calls for a celebration, don’t you think?”

Castiel smiles weakly, letting Dean drink the wine, “I suppose.”

“Is everything good with us, sir?” Dean asks.

"Yes, Winchester. It's good," Castiel affirms. "I don't have the words to thank you. I think if I had to see that headline all over every tabloid in the country, I'd kill myself."

“Then it's a good thing that’s not happening because I like having you as my boss,” Dean smiles loosely.

There's a nice silence that settled between them before Castiel breaks it, saying, "I'm sorry about what happened in the studio this afternoon."

“I get it. Missouri and Gabe told me how you get around this time,” Dean says. He pauses, then figures that nothing can go wrong and asks, “I don’t think either of us is gonna get to sleep anytime soon after today, so do you maybe want to get coffee?”

“Of course, because caffeine at night is always a good idea,” Castiel says sarcastically, but he’s already reaching for his Valentino coat. “Let’s go. I know this 24-hour café down the street.”

When Castiel comes in for work the next day, he places a coffee order on Dean’s desk while sipping his own. Dean reads the writing on it and looks up into Castiel’s blue eyes — they seem just a shade lighter today, and Dean credits it to how Lucian’s magazine's headline is some celebrity drama and not about Castiel’s sexuality.

“You got my order right,” Dean notes absently.

“You’re not the only one who pays attention,” Castiel replies simply.

Dean grins and says, “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, Winchester.”


	3. brûler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/ Drowning (around the part where Castiel and Dean are calling for the car to go back to the hotel after the Paris runway)

_There’s time to slow down after you’re dead._  
**Donatella Versace**

A full month had passed between Castiel and Dean coming to an understanding and now they’re packing up collections for Fashion Week. The office is a mess, people running around to make sure Castiel and his team have everything they need on their travels. 

Ultimately, Castiel asked Dean, Gabriel, Meg, Balthazar, Rowena, Kevin and Pamela to go to Fashion Week with him, along with a small team of makeup artists of Gabriel’s selection and a handful of NOVAK’s own models that will walk the runway with the event’s designated models. Anna Milton, one of NOVAK’s models and a childhood friend of Castiel and Gabriel, is coming along. Apparently, all three grew up in the same foster care system and Castiel used to design and make clothes for her when he was bored while Gabriel did makeup for her. Some other NOVAK employees would be in attendance but not in Castiel’s party, like writers or photographers. Charlie was going on her own as well but promised to meet up with them.

Since Dean’s outburst and then his attempt to resolve their tension, Castiel and he have gotten along much better. Dean still buys coffee for Castiel before he comes in for work, only to realize that Castiel has bought coffee for him on the way. Dean assured him that he didn’t have to get him coffee but Castiel told him it was his way of trying to be a better boss to Dean, so he lets him knock himself out.

Castiel even joins him for lunch on some days, when he doesn’t have to go to some high-end restaurant with another creative director or some celebrity who just wants to catch up with him. Gabriel is more than happy to eat with his little brother and Dean just feels good being around Castiel in general. There’s just something about him that makes Dean particularly excited. Maybe his brain is just used to the adrenaline spike he gets whenever he sees Castiel come in, ready for all the quick-fire notes he’ll be given for the day, and maybe that adrenaline naturally comes to Dean whenever he sees Castiel now even if they’re simply just having lunch. Either way, it’s a good kind of rush that Dean enjoys.

Where Castiel tries his best to make sure he isn’t being too hard on Dean and other employees, Dean tries his best to make sure Castiel isn’t overworking himself. If Castiel is going to stay in the office past midnight to work on custom pieces for celebrities, Dean stays late to help him pick up the pace, and he buys them coffee from that 24-hour café down the street.

Despite the amount of time they’ve started spending together in the past month, Castiel obviously still has a guard up. The only bits of Castiel’s personal side that Dean has found out about is that he had a secret ex-boyfriend before he got famous that died in a car accident, but that’s all he could get out of him. Dean returned the favour by telling him about the time he made his mother that Chanel jacket she really wanted, but that he only got to make it years after her death because she died while he was still too young to start on it, and that the jacket is still in his closet, unworn.

Regardless of it, their time together has only made Dean more determined to listen to Missouri’s request to look out for him. He’s already ready to stop him from drinking himself stupid if it comes down to it.

Sam called him to wish him good luck at Fashion Week, to have fun and to take pictures for him. Thankfully, as Castiel’s personal assistant, he gets a front-row seat at the runway and will be able to get good photos for Sam and Eileen to gawk at.

For now, Dean is following Castiel all over the building as he gets them to bring everything to where it needs to be. 

“Winchester, get me Bela,” Castiel orders and Dean nods, calling her and connecting the call to his office.

“Sir, I’ve got Bela,” Dean informs him.

“Bela, I know I told you you could use one of my private jets for your collection but I need it for Gabriel’s MUA team and our models. Use your own plane,” Castiel says into the phone. Inias waits outside his office patiently — Dean doesn’t see Inias around often, but he knows that he and Hester Garrison are siblings and he also knows that Hester is more annoying than anything. Inias is a fashion stylist if Dean isn’t remembering wrongly, while Hester is a writer. “I know, Bel, and I’m sorry. But you can afford another plane by the time London's week rolls around with all that money in your bank account. You'll do without me.”

Inias glances at Dean. “How’s working for Novak?”

“Good, yeah,” Dean nods. “He’s a great boss.”

Inias smiles at him, “Have fun at Fashion Week, Dean.” Castiel hangs up and calls Inias in and he waves once at Dean before going into the office. 

Once Inias is done talking to Castiel, he leaves and Dean asks, “Is there anything else you need to be done, sir?”

Castiel glances up at him and look him over; Dean tried to dress more professionally today, in an unconscious attempt to look more presentable on what is undoubtedly one of Castiel’s most stressful days at the office. He’s in an Anthony Squires navy black archer sport coat that Missouri snuck him from the company’s storage, with a regular black turtleneck underneath that he got from some retail shop he doesn’t remember the name of and dark blue Levi’s jeans. Not that the outfit is extraordinarily professional, but at least it’s a step up from regular Instagram fashionista.

Castiel himself is dressed in the same clothes he’ll be wearing to the first day of New York Fashion Week -- a mostly cashmere silk classic fit outfit consisting of a cargo pocket detail trench coat, an English fit jersey tailored blazer and pants, jersey shirt and a classic cut jersey tie, the outfit a monochromatic range of greys. He looks wildly sexy if Dean wanted to be honest.

“I’m going to give you a different outfit. You can’t be at your first Fashion Week in that, the magazine writers will eat you alive,” Castiel says.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel about my fit, sir,” Dean laughs.

Castiel shakes his head, “No, no. It’s a good choice of clothing and you have a great eye for style, but it’s Fashion Week, not another day at the office. Look, come with me.” Dean nods, following Castiel as they make their way to the company’s grand closet. While Missouri passed him some pieces from there, he’s never actually been in it. It takes up the entirety of the ninth floor, full of racks of clothes, bags, shoes, and accessories that are no longer needed or simply waiting to be used.

He makes his way to the shirt rack and mutters, pulling out a jacquard tuxedo set with maiolica print on pink, “We’re doing this D&G for you, and this.” He passes a Sicilia jacket in cordonnet lace to Dean. “D&G as well.”

He moves to shoes and Dean eyes the patterned suit, nodding in approval. He doesn’t typically wear print like this but he trusts Castiel to make him look good. He’s not a professional stylist for nothing, after all. Castiel takes out a pair of black soft Nappa leather shoes. “Shoes — Jimmy Choo’s.” There’s another pair of shoes in his hands after that, black denim and calf leather derbies. “And Manolo Blahnik.”

Dean runs his hands over a rust satin georgette gown, Narciso Rodriguez, and says, “This dress is beautiful.”

“Oh yes, I was saving that one to pass to Charlie later,” Castiel notes, taking it off of the rack. “Alright, and this coat for when you don’t want to wear that tuxedo.” He hands Dean a tan-coloured coat from NOVAK. “This one, we never used it. It didn’t match the other things in that collection so I stored it here.”

“It’s a really good coat,” Dean compliments, feeling the material. “Did Kevin make the fabric?”

“He did,” Castiel confirms. “Okay, you can wear those for New York, but I’ll get you some new clothes for Milan and Paris.”

Dean instinctively starts to reject, “Sir, you don’t have to —“

“With all the work you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do,” Castiel interrupts. “Italian and French designs will be exquisite so getting the clothes right from there will be the best choice. Come on.”

“Where are we going now?”

“Drop this off with Charlie,” Castiel answers, raising the gown slightly to regard it. “And check that the collection’s in the private jet. We’ll be leaving for the venue in a few hours, so we’ll get lunch at this Italian place I know before we go.”

“We as in both of us, sir?” Dean asks, surprised by the invite.

“I’m sorry, did you have any prior plans?” Castiel asks, pausing to look back at him, tilting his head in question. “I know you like eating with my brother and a few others.”

Dean shakes his head, “No, I can go. Do I need to make a reservation?”

“Making it just before we need it is a little redundant, isn’t it?” Castiel teases. “We’ll go and if there aren’t any free tables, maybe we can gorge ourselves on McDonald’s or something.”

Charlie absolutely adores the gown when they drop it off, and because the Italian restaurant is full, Castiel keeps his word and they get McDonald’s. Castiel buys just a burger and fries, and Dean spoils himself with as much food as he can stomach since Castiel was paying. It’s the most food he’s eaten in one sitting since moving to New York.

Castiel is surprisingly a messy eater and Dean laughs when Castiel can’t get ketchup off of his face. But when Dean tries to get it for him, Castiel shoots back into his seat, wide-eyed.

“Sir, is something wrong?” Dean asks, lowering his arm.

“You didn’t do anything, I just...” Castiel glances around. “I'm worried that someone will see.”

Dean presses his lips together before nodding, “If it makes you comfortable. But you still have ketchup on your face.” Castiel stares at Dean and at the people around them and Dean leans forward again to wipe the ketchup off the corner of his lip. Castiel remains completely still out of fear. His hand, the tissue a thin barrier between his fingers and Castiel’s skin, lingers on Castiel’s jaw and his eyes fall to Castiel’s parted lips.

He quickly moves back to his side of the table before his boss starts to freak out.

“Thank you, Winchester,” Castiel says, sounding a little out of breath like he’d been holding it since Dean leaned over the table.

“No problem,” Dean replies. “Anyway, you were saying about Gabriel being shit-faced?”

A look of relief washes over Castiel’s face — Dean thinks he’s grateful to Dean for not saying anything about his fear about being seen publicly close with a man. He launches back into a story of the first time Gabriel tried alcohol and how he got so drunk that Anna and he barely managed to sneak him back into the orphanage. Gabriel woke up in pink panties with American flag-themed glasses on. The story leaves them both laughing and the moment is forgotten by the time they make it back to the NOVAK building.

The chauffeur takes them straight from the NOVAK building to the Skylight Clarkson Square in Manhattan, about two hours before the event starts so they have time to settle in and get ready. Castiel hands the outfits off to models he thinks suits the outfits best, hugs Anna for good luck and then sends them off with Gabriel and his team to handle their makeup for the runway.

“Cassandra!” a British accent rings out in the empty hall where the runway is being set up. Castiel turns to the voice and smiles, waving.

“That’s Bela Talbot, creative director of Crossroads,” Castiel explains. “Good evening, Bel.”

Bela apparently had a history with Castiel — they both started up their labels around the same time so they supported one another as they grew their businesses together. They were close despite being part of different brands and Castiel trusted her implicitly.

"Who's this?" Bela asks, smiling at Dean.

"Dean Winchester, his P.A.," Dean fills in. "Sir, we need to meet up with Meg and Balthazar backstage." Bela gives Castiel a quick hug and a wave goodbye, letting him off.

Castiel and Dean meet up with Meg and Balthazar backstage to approve models, or to switch some of them out for different outfits. Castiel restyles some and picks out accessories and it's like magic to Dean, watching him work. It doesn't take long for Charlie to find them and she gushes about all the ready-to-wear collections that she is "so gonna buy once they're in stock".

Dean had been forced by Castiel to wear the jacquard tuxedo set with maiolica print from Dolce & Gabbana along with the black Manolo Blahniks. Castiel dons a light mohair single-breasted Prada suit. The runway is soon set-up and other Fashion Week guests pile in — models, press, assistant buyers like Charlie, some A-list celebrities. Dean has to catch himself staring when Cara Delevingne walks past, laughing at a joke someone said to her.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Dean whispers.

Castiel can’t help but smile. “Control yourself, Winchester. You’ll get to live this for the rest of the month.”

“Thank you for bringing me,” Dean says sincerely.

Castiel says sarcastically, "Well, it's not as if I have a choice, you are my personal assistant." He does end up laughing softly, though, adding, "But you're welcome."

The runways go past one after another and Dean can't stop taking photographs of the models as they strut down, branded heels and boots clicking rhythmically with the booming music. The bass is deep in Dean's chest and it almost feels like being at a concert. The show ends far too soon for Dean's liking but the adrenaline from each show lasts until the end of the week.

Castiel gets him a few more pieces from NOVAK's storage, telling him that he's welcome to keep what Castiel gives him if he wants to and to clean them before returning if he doesn't want to. Dean is more than grateful for free designer clothing so he doesn't really return anything throughout the New York week. If he ends up not liking anything, he knows Sam will be happy to take it. Plus, a professional stylist picking out your closet for you? Dean would be a dumbass if he didn't keep Castiel's selections.

He would be lying if he said he didn't check himself out when he tried on the clothes Castiel chose. He admittedly looks sexy and he wonders if Castiel thinks he does too since he gave him the pieces. And then he wonders why that even matters to him.

Meg and Balthazar occasionally show him how it works backstage if Castiel is busy talking to other designers. It's so busy there, packed with makeup teams and models. It's insane for Dean to be in a room where he isn't the tallest person around for once. Being 6'1, Dean's used to it, but there are models just as tall and even a handful who are _taller_. Crazy. Also, being surrounded by some of the most attractive men and women in the world is always a pleasure. A model actually asked Dean if he ever thought about trying modelling too.

Kevin gets excited making notes about fabrics and materials that he could use as inspiration for new creations and Rowena and Pamela check out other designers' pieces when Castiel doesn't need them around. Dean's by Castiel's side most of the time, helping him run errands, make calls and double-checking with celebrities' agents for their custom clothing.

The week draws to a close and they're off to Milan for their Fashion Week the next week, after spending London's one organizing commissions. Castiel works endlessly through the week, and he ends the week with just one dress left, made for Gemma Chan. He assures Dean that he can finish it with his spare time in Milan.

They will be taking NOVAK's private jets instead of a regular business class flight since they'll be carrying all the collection pieces that need to be handled with care and Castiel doesn't trust regular baggage handlers. Dean's never been in a private plane so it's just more new experiences for him.

The flight feels safer to Dean but he isn’t exactly sure if it’s because Castiel is like a rock next to him, or if the plane’s smaller size feels more secure. He didn’t even have to hum Metallica this time but he still had to hold on to Castiel’s hand for dear life. Dean's a little apologetic because he recalled Castiel saying that Kevin holds his hand out of his fear of flying as well. Though, Kevin has resolved to hold Charlie's hand instead so it all worked out in the end.

Castiel already has a limo waiting for them when they arrive to take them straight to the Palazzo Reale. The runways aren't so different from the New York ones other than the location and brands present. But still, it's exciting every time.

When Castiel isn't busy networking or settling last-minute issues, he keeps his word and takes Dean to the local retail shops and actually buys him clothes. Dean has a new outfit for every night in Milan and though Castiel jokes that he's only doing this so his personal assistant won't embarrass him, Dean knows Castiel just wanted to do something nice and he appreciated the gesture. He just wishes he knew how to make it up to him. Multiple branded pieces for someone who grew up unable to afford any of it, as a no-strings-attached gift, it meant a lot to Dean.

Charlie finds them again and she, Kevin, Gabriel, Meg, and Dean pile into Castiel's hotel room to keep him company while he tries to finish the last dress. Meg helps sew with him and Gabriel, Kevin, Charlie, and Dean talk about anything and everything entertaining that comes to mind to keep up the morale.

Eventually, Charlie suggests an ironic game of 20 questions that gets them going, asking each other ridiculous questions and laughing at the answers. Even Meg joins in every once in a while as she works with Castiel, offering up juicy stories and gossip that are so bewildering that Castiel has to bite back a grin when everyone laughs.

At some point, Gabriel tugs at Castiel's sleeve, grinning, "Come on, play it with us, bro. You never let yourself have any fun."

"I let myself have plenty of fun," Castiel denies. "Ask me something."

Gabriel looks to Kevin and he asks, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No," Castiel answers. Meg chastises Kevin for such a lame question and Dean glances at Castiel — They don't know that he's gay.

Charlie raises her hand, waving it excitedly, and she asks, "What's the most embarrassing thing to happen to you since you became a designer? You're always so professional. You had to have had a time where you cracked."

Castiel considers the question, still sewing finishing touches to a dress, "Four years ago, Crowley bet me that I couldn't drink as much as him and I was stupid enough to take him up on it. I got so drunk that I threw up all over my Alexander Wang — in front of Alexander Wang."

Charlie gasps loudly, slapping a hand over her mouth, and Kevin barks a laugh. Even Meg smirks at the statement and Dean can't hold back a grin, watching the small smile creep onto Castiel's face, and Gabriel gapes, "You never told me this story before! Then what?"

Castiel shrugs, putting the completed dress down and sipping his wine, "Then I never wore Alexander Wang ever again." They all laugh at the story, unable to imagine their powerhouse boss in designer clothing ruined by puke. Castiel adds, "Crowley's worse; he pissed all over his Michael Kors."

"No fucking way," Gabriel wheezes.

Meg teases, "Oh, Clarence. Tell me Michael Kors saw it."

"With his luck? Of course. Michael was with Alexander," Castiel says, deadpan, and they lose it once more.

"This is unbelievable," Kevin shakes his head, chuckling. Dean can't stop grinning — he likes seeing this side of Castiel, the side that tells stupid stories and lets himself ease up. 

Gabriel is doubled over in laughter just visualizing his stoic little brother making a wasted fool of himself in front of Alexander Wang and Michael Kors. At least Michael Kors probably thought it was funny since Dean remembered Castiel met with him months back.

"Too bad about Alexander Wang," Dean teases. "I think you'd look good in his clothes."

Castiel replies, "It really is too bad, then. I could rock his men's collection." He hangs the dress on the rack and claps his hands once, saying, "Okay, get the hell out of here. I'm getting drunk and we're supposed to leave in a few hours, so leave me alone. Scram."

"Yes, boss," Charlie laughs, taking advantage of his tipsiness to hug him before she, Meg, Kevin, and Gabriel leave Castiel's hotel room, leaving just him and Dean.

Castiel asks, "Aren't you going to get some rest before the flight? The Academy Award outfits are completed."

Dean nods, taking his beer bottle, "I know, I just didn't feel like going back to my room so soon. Is that okay?"

Castiel stares at him as if trying to decode him, but he ultimately relents. "Why wouldn't it be?" He downs the rest of his glass of wine before he goes straight for the bottle. "How are you feeling after your first Fashion Week?"

" _Awesome_ ," Dean has to stop himself from bursting with excitement. "Sam asked me to send photos for all the runway shows and I have so many, but I think they're all blurry from the lights. Plus I think my hands were shaking."

Castiel smiles loosely, drinking his wine. Red liquid trails down his lower lip and Dean can't help but follow it down his chin until Castiel's thumb wipes it away. "Runways, they never get old. It's good that you're enjoying this. Think of it as motivation, one day it could be your collection walking down those runways."

"That's the dream," Dean says, raising his bottle. "Sir, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Can you build up to it?" Castiel replies, partially joking. "I don't think I'm quite so drunk yet to answer personal questions."

Dean nods, asking with a stupid smile, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Castiel shakes his head but he humours him anyway, "I don't know, Winchester. I think I'd like to be an FBI agent. You?"

"A rock star," Dean answers easily. "What's your favourite TV show?"

"Predictably enough, _Project Runway_ ," Castiel says, downing the wine. "I like to watch them freak out with the deadlines. It reminds me of me. What about you?"

Dean chuckles slightly, "Me, I like _Scooby-Doo_."

"The cartoon?" Castiel questions, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I like to watch them freak out," Dean echoes Castiel's words, grinning. It pulls a smile from Castiel and Dean asks another question, "What's your favourite colour?"

Castiel ponders it for a moment before suggesting, "Why don't you guess?"

"Tan? You wear a lot of tan coats," Dean speculates.

"Hm. I don't think so," Castiel frowns. "Try again."

Dean thinks and goes for a colour he has never seen Castiel wear to work. He says enthusiastically, "It's gotta be green! Is it?"

Castiel stares at him and Dean can't read the expression that crosses his face, but Castiel smiles minutely, "Yeah, it's green."

"Yes! I knew it," Dean cheers. "You, sir, are unpredictable. Never know what I'm gonna get." He holds out his arms in front of him to steady himself, already feeling the beer kick in. This is the first time Dean's tried actual good, expensive beer, not the cheap kind he gets from the goddamn _supermarket_ , thanks to Castiel, and he knows he has to get some to let Sam try when he comes to visit.

Castiel himself looks out of it too, leaning heavily on the foot of the bed. "Well, Winchester, my turn. What do you wish you knew more about in the world?"

"You," Dean answers. "You're like... like this being living outside of this planet, you know? You're kinda erratic but I also kinda like that about you. Always something new with you, it's nice." Castiel thinks his answer over and Dean asks, "Are you drunk enough for my personal question yet?"

"Fine," Castiel mumbles. "About time that I forced myself to sleep anyway."

"Who knows that you're gay?" Dean blurts out. He meant to ease into it but it's been asked.

Castiel casts a pointed look at him. "Me, you, Rowena, Lucian, Anael and her writer girlfriend who wrote that piece on me. My ex-boyfriends. That's all."

"Not even Gabriel?" Dean asks, wide-eyed.

"I haven't told anyone," Castiel says, staring at the carpeted floor.

"Why?"

"I'm... afraid, I suppose," Castiel says and Dean can see his drunken trance shattering into jarring sobriety. "I don't like being judged. It's one thing to have people talk shit about the work you do. You could always change that. It's another when they're talking shit about you because that's not something you can throw out and remake in a better image. It's different. And being in this position, being fairly new to fame, where everyone is just waiting for me to mess up, it is nerve-wracking to imagine telling people that I'm gay." He drinks the last few drops of his wine before he puts the bottle on the floor. "I'm not ashamed of who I am... I'm proud of myself and the work I've done, what I've been through. But I'm just afraid."

Dean nods sombrely, feeling the beer buzz leave his veins. "I get it. If I was you, I might not come out either, all that stress. But I'm sure at least Gabriel wouldn't care, right? He's family."

"I know he won't care if I'm gay, bi, straight or whatever. Gabriel is one of the most open-minded people I know," Castiel says, pacing slightly. "I just can't get the words out. Have you ever just been unable to talk?"

"When I came out to Sam," Dean says quietly. "I couldn't say anything. I stood there for so long until my brain just spat out the words. It was over as soon as it started."

Castiel is silent and because both of them are a little out of their wits with alcohol, Dean can't figure out what's on his mind. But Castiel, in general, is hard to read. He speaks, jarring Dean with how abruptly the topic has been changed.

“Smoke.”

“What?” Dean falters, caught off-guard.

Castiel goes around the bed, pacing the window. “I need a smoke. Do you have cigarettes?”

Dean’s fingers graze over the small box in his jacket pocket and he says weakly, “Well, yeah, but this is my only pack for the week and —“

“I didn’t ask for your fucking life story, I asked for a smoke,” Castiel cuts in, holding out a hand for a stick, his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose. Dean knows that whatever moment that was there before has been lost to Castiel's nerves and that the walls are back up again. A part of him regretted asking and consequently ruining the mood.

Dean relents, shaking out a cigarette and giving it to Castiel, “Okay, but just _one_ a day at most. I promised Missouri that I’d keep you in check.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Castiel mutters, putting the cigarette between his lips. “Light.” Dean takes out his lighter, holding his hand up near the side of Castiel’s face to block wind as he lights up the edge of the cigarette. When it’s lit, Castiel backs off away to the window again, looking out at the dark sky. “Alright, is the jet for Paris tomorrow morning confirmed?”

“Yup, for 7 AM,” Dean answers, quickly opening his planner so that he’s ready for any questions from Castiel. He never thought he’d have a planner but now Dean can’t do his job without one. It’s so much easier than keeping it all on his calendar and at least he won’t accidentally delete an event again. “We’ll be in Paris by 8.”

“Remind Cate Blanchett that her suit will be delivered straight to her hotel by 9 tonight," Castiel says. "And I want my suit picked up from Armani before the first runway." Dean reaches lazily for his pen and writes it down. The words come out shaky and smudged but he's sure he'll know what it says when he wakes up for the flight later. 

Dean nods half-heartedly, "Alright. Anything else?"

Castiel looks mildly apologetic when he glances Dean's way, maybe for steeling up so quickly at the thought of coming out, so he offers, "You may sleepover in my room tonight if you're too wasted to go back to your own."

Dean stares at him carefully, wanting to make sure Castiel isn't gonna regret asking him to stay for the next few hours. "There's just one bed."

He presses his lips together and shrugs. "We're adults. Does it really matter to us?"

"Not me," Dean replies. "So, we're sharing the bed?"

"I don't have a problem with it if you don't," Castiel says. "I'm too tired to care."

Dean barely gets any sleep until Castiel wakes up at 6:30 AM for the flight to Paris. Castiel smells like the hotel's lavender shampoo, the cigarette smoke that clings to his clothes, and there's an underlying scent of something like fire, almost. Or he just smells like Castiel. Dean stops himself and frowns when he realizes he's actually thinking about what his boss smells like.

Kevin, Pamela, and Rowena offer to take the Academy Awards outfits back to Los Angeles on one of the private jets for Castiel, so they say their goodbyes and leave for America while the rest of them fly to Paris. Castiel takes a nap on the short flight, leaving his hand in the empty space between his and Dean's seats for Dean to take. Dean does.

Castiel buys Dean more clothes in Paris, despite Dean telling him that what he got in Milan is more than sufficient. Castiel insists that he's tired of seeing the endless ways Dean can style the same ten shirts to work and he'd like to see him in something different when Fashion Week is over. Dean decides there isn't much he can do except let his boss satisfy his want to spoil Dean. Sam would scream at him to let Castiel buy him some designer clothes for free and Dean knows he's an idiot if he doesn't use this opportunity to get a new wardrobe. Italian and French clothing definitely has a level of quality that American clothes can't compete with.

After the third runway show of the week, Castiel’s itching to get back to his hotel and catch some sleep, saying that he feels fucking _awful_ , so Dean gets them the hell out of the Carrousel du Louvre and to someplace near the Louvre. There’s a huge basin of water in the centre of the area. Dean thinks they’re in the Tuileries Garden but he could be wrong, it’s his first time in Paris.

"I'm gonna call for the car to take us back to the hotel," Dean says. "Wait here, I'll go out nearer to the road."

Castiel watches Dean walk away from him, taking out his phone to call for the chauffeur, and he looks at the water. It's deep enough that he could stay under the surface.

Castiel is used to stress — in fact, he doesn’t even know what life is like without the strain on his sanity by now, but for some reason, it seemed like the world is caving in on him and for fuck’s sake, he needs a cigarette. Where’s Winchester when you need him?

It’s suddenly too much.

The article Lucian almost published before Dean stepped in, along with the outfits for Academy Award clients that he stayed up late to complete in Milan. Meg had helped, and once they got it all done and sent off to the celebrities’ agents, Dean just had to remind him that nobody that's important to him knows he's gay (except for, well, Dean) and Castiel wished Dean wasn't there so he could have drunk himself half-blind to get over the nerves. Castiel’s brain was catching up with the entire month’s workload and he kneels down next to the water, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to force thoughts out.

Castiel decides that he doesn't care that there's probably a law against going into the water and gets in. He lets himself sink until his fingers graze the stone flooring at the bottom, and then he forces himself to stay there until his lungs don't feel like his own, and his mind is numb.

“Yeah, just finished the final one. Castiel promised that the office will be a little slacker since Fashion Week is over, so you just let me know when you’re coming,” Dean says into the phone. While he kept a lookout for the limo, he decided to call Sam to pass the time.

“How did it go?”

“It was great, you know. A couple of big-name designers and Castiel’s. I took videos for you guys, I’ll send them when we’re back in the hotel,” Dean promises. “Just waiting for the limo to take us back so he can get some shut-eye, then we'll be on our way back to New York in a couple of days. We're done with the critical stuff already, though.”

Sam replies, “Good, at least you can relax now. We’ll probably wait for you at your apartment, I still have the spare key you gave me.”

Dean nods, squinting into the road to check for the limo, “So you two let yourselves in, I’ll probably be back in the evening if Castiel doesn’t keep me late.” Sam voices his acknowledgement and Dean adds, “Listen, man. The car’s still not here so I’m gonna go ask Castiel if he wants to grab a cab instead. I’ll call you again some time. Good night, bro. Say hi to Eileen for me.”

“Will do. Good night, Dean,” Sam says before hanging up. Dean puts his phone back into his coat pocket and walks back to where he left Castiel. He looks around and frowns — Castiel is nowhere to be seen.

“Sir?” Dean calls. When there’s no answer, he tries, “Castiel? Where are you?” He steps to the edge of the water and sees Castiel underwater and he smiles lopsidedly, “Sir, you know if you wanted to swim, the hotel has a pool.”

Then he realizes that Castiel isn’t moving and concern starts to bleed into him. “Cas?” When there’s no response, he curses under his breath, getting into the water to bring Castiel back up to the surface. Once he gets a grip on Castiel's soaked jacket, he pulls Castiel up and out of the water. Thank God Dean paid attention back in school when they held those workshops. Resuscitation does the trick and Castiel chokes up on water, coughing. Dean asks, bewildered, “What the hell did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel replies, rubbing his throat. “I just fell in.”

“What, you can’t swim?” Dean questions, frowning. "It's not that deep."

“I _know_ how to,” Castiel says as if offended that Dean thinks he can’t swim. “I didn’t want to.”

“Then why would you —“ Dean cuts himself off and stares at Castiel who just looks at the water, shivering slightly in the cold. The revelation hits him like a bullet train. “Sir, if this is too much, we can skip the rest of Paris and go back to New York. I can just tell Gabe to go on without us.”

Castiel shakes his head, running his hands up and down his soaked sleeves, “No, I’ll still attend. Since you dragged me out, I might as well.”

Dean sits down next to him and says, “Fine.” After a moment of hesitation, he decides to just go for it. “Did you want me to not find you?”

Castiel doesn’t say anything in response, simply muttering, “ _Fuck_ , I’m cold.”

Dean jokes in an attempt to alleviate the tension, “Well, sir, I would offer you my jacket, but I jumped into the water.” Castiel rolls his eyes and Dean says, "Maybe one of the cafés here can offer a towel or something. Come on."

He helps Castiel up and they manage to find their way to Café des Marronniers. One of the baristas offers them a towel, having recognized Castiel since they admire his work in fashion, and she doesn't ask why Castiel is drenched. She brews coffee to warm them up.

"Sir, I left you for five minutes," Dean jokes uselessly.

"You should have left for longer. Maybe they'll arrest me for going into the water," Castiel mutters, accepting the hot coffee from the barista when she comes over with two mugs. "Merci beaucoup."

Dean runs a hand over his face, letting the heat from the mug spread warmth into his other hand. "You can't just go off and try to get arrested or something, at least talk it out with me. I know you're stressed out but let me help you. It's literally my job to pick up your shit, sir."

“Why do you do that?” Castiel asks, looking up at Dean.

Dean frowns. “Do what?”

“Call me sir. Why do you do that?” Castiel clarifies, cocking his head at Dean in confusion.

Dean shrugs, “I don’t know, my dad usually made us call him sir. I guess it stuck.”

Castiel narrows his eyes and stares at Dean from over his mug. “I hope you are aware that I am not your father.”

Dean's eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly, explaining, "No, I know. I mean, it just got me and my brother into the habit, you know. We call authoritative figures sir." 

Castiel nods, the action so small that it's almost like he didn't do it at all, and says, "Well, Mr Novak is fine. Or Castiel."

“Okay, Castiel,” Dean replies. "What the hell did you do that for? What were you gonna do? What do you think Gabe's gonna do? He'll bring you back to life and kill you if he heard you did that."

Castiel mutters bitterly, “Then that’s my problem.”

“Well, sorry, Castiel but as long as I’m working for you, you’re my problem,” Dean points out. “I will literally sleep in the office when you work late if you’re gonna try this again.”

“Please don’t,” Castiel says insincerely. At Dean’s unamused expression, he sighs, “It won’t happen again. I just got a little in over my head. It’s the same thing as me drinking until I can’t stand.”

“You need some healthy coping habits,” Dean mumbles. “I’m hailing a cab, Gabe took the car.”

Castiel stares at Dean like he’s trying to pick what words to say, and he finally spills out, “I don’t know how to deal with any of this. Doing what you love and getting your dues is one thing. Having this fucking spotlight on everything you do in your personal time is another. I hate feeling like anything I say or do will reduce my career to atoms.”

Dean replies gently, “I’m here to help, I’m supposed to make this easier for you. Listen, the things you ask me to do for you, it doesn’t need to be work-related, okay? If you want to call me at like 3 in the fucking morning just to get coffee or something, I’ll go. You’re not just my boss, you’re my friend.”

Castiel gives him a small grateful smile. “Thank you, Winchester.”

“If I’m calling you Castiel, you’re calling me Dean. Come on,” Dean says.

“We should go back to the hotel,” Castiel says, standing up. He turns to the barista and smiles, “Merci, au revoir."

“Au revoir!” She returns cheerfully, waving goodbye as Castiel and Dean leave the café.

As they walk towards the road to get a cab back, Castiel says, “Thank you, Dean.”

“For what?”

“Everything you have done for me,” Castiel answers. “Including what happened in the garden.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean grins. “Let’s just get you back to the hotel and get you into some fresh clothes. I’ll get wine or something sent to your room and —"

“Can we just forget tonight ever happened?” Castiel asks, partially nervous. "And would you stay the night again?"

Dean says with a faint smile on his face, "Okay. Forgotten, but I'm still gonna be watching you. And of course. I love your room. It's way bigger and nicer than mine. Plus, someone’s gotta cut off your wine before you get any other ideas tonight anyway.” 

“Oh, stop it,” Castiel rolls his eyes, walking faster ahead of Dean. Dean laughs and runs to catch up with him. “If you’re going to make a big deal out of it, you’re more than welcome to fuck off.”

“I won't, okay?” Dean chuckles once he’s next to Castiel. "We can just braid each other's hair and talk about boys."

Castiel shoves him, saying, “Don’t be gross.”

Dean pulls a mock-offended face, gaping as he presses his hand to his chest, drawing back, “Me, gross? Why, Castiel, if I didn’t know any better I would say you hated me.”

Castiel halts where he stands and Dean grins wide, turning to stop right in front of him. Castiel smiles, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Dean laughs, stepping closer, “Now I’m flattering myself? After all the flattering I’ve done for you, you’ve been wearing all the best brands lately.”

Castiel compliments as he looks Dean up and down, though there lies a joking tone in his voice, “Well, you do look good in Westwood.”

"How good?" Dean asks, lifting his nose to the sky like he's ready to receive endless praise from Castiel. 

Castiel grins, the first time Dean has seen him smile so wide, and says, "You really shouldn't push your luck."

Dean leans in, unconscious decision to be closer to Castiel, and teases, "Why? Scared that people will think your assistant looks way hotter?"

Castiel looks like he wants to say something else when his eyes drop to watch Dean's tongue wet his lips, a flicker that Dean doesn't miss, but the moment is missed and Castiel clears his throat, stepping back. Dean instantly misses the lack of space between them seconds before, and a part of him aches to close the distance once more. Castiel waves dismissively, "That's nonsense. I know I look damn good in my Prada. We should go get a cab before all the Fashion Week guests take them all."

Dean hangs back and watches Castiel walk ahead, trying to slow the beat of his heart.


	4. pleuvoir

_It’s probably not just by chance that I’m alone. It would be very hard for a man to live with me unless he’s terribly strong._   
**Coco Chanel**

Sam comes to visit with Eileen on the first day of March, and they’re ready with a cheap bottle of beer when Dean comes back from work only to get even more excited when Dean shows them the expensive champagne Castiel offered to buy for Sam and Eileen.

“Your boss bought this?” Sam asks, amazed, as he reads the label on the bottle. “How much did it cost?”

“More than you,” Dean grins, hugging Eileen hello. “By the way, Castiel said you two are welcome to visit the office tomorrow if you want. He’s pretty free, just a photoshoot in the afternoon and a business dinner, so he can show you around.”

Eileen signs: _That would be incredible._ Sam points to her in agreement, "Yeah, we'd love to check the place out."

“Awesome,” Dean beams, taking the bottle from Sam to open it. “So, how’re things with you two?”

Sam grins, moving so he would be in Eileen’s line of sight to make it easier to read his lips, though his hands move to do sign language as well. “Great. That firm hired me and I just won my first case. Eileen and I had dinner at this Chinese place across my office to celebrate. And Eileen’s class is nice to her.”

Eileen elaborates, “There’s a boy named Sam there, so obviously he’s picking favorites.”

“Am not!” Sam denies, appalled. Dean shakes his head and laughs, pouring out three glasses and handing them off to Sam and Eileen. "I like Sam and Non-Sams equally."

Eileen dramatically rolls her eyes, signing 'thank you' before taking a glass from Dean. She asks, sipping her champagne, "What about you? Is your boss still a nightmare?"

"No, actually. We're friends now, you know. He calls me Dean, and I call him Castiel," Dean says, and his smile is warm where it touches his lips. "I like it, being friends with him. He's a lot nicer and I think he likes being friends too. He's a little happier now and I like seeing him happy."

"Is it just me or does Dean have a crush on his boss?" Eileen teases, hiding her grin behind her glass.

Before Dean can protest, Sam laughs and adds on, "Well, Dean? Do you have a crush on _Mr. Novak_?"

"No," Dean says instantly. "Maybe." He pauses and snaps, acting offended. "Shut up!"

Sam and Eileen lean into each other as if gossiping like schoolgirls, signing quicker than Dean can decode, and they laugh among themselves. Dean flips them off but it's in a joking nature. Maybe he did have a crush on his boss. So what? It's not like he'll be at that job forever, and it's not like Castiel returned the sentiment, and it's not like Dean will ever act on it, and it's just not like this crush will last. It's fleeting, as Dean feels, and one day he will look back on this crush and laugh at it over dinner with Castiel when he's off with some guy and Dean's off with someone.

"Oh, Dean. Poor, poor Dean," Sam teases, his grin wide and entertained. "Are you gonna ask him out?"

"No, because that's unprofessional and he could fire me if he's not in a good mood," Dean replies, sitting down across from Sam and Eileen. "Plus, it's just a stupid crush. It'll be gone in like, a week."

"How did it even happen?" Eileen asks, leaning forward in interest as she reaches for more champagne.

How _did_ it happen? Dean isn't even that sure. Maybe he liked the rush he feels when Castiel walks into the room, firing off everything he needed Dean to do for him that day. Maybe the adrenaline presented itself in a different way. Dean says, signing as he talks, "Don't know. It just did, I guess. Forget about it, it's nothing. Tell me about that Sam kid in Eileen's class."

Eileen goes ahead and tells him about how Kid Sam is good in school, and his eyes are the same color as Sam's and sometimes she forgets that that's not Sam's son. Sam tells him about a lawyer in his office who's determined to make him look bad in front of his bosses, and about how Sam retaliated by tripping him in the elevator. Dean listens with a smile on his face, and they all talk over the movie that played at 8 PM.

When Sam and Eileen split off to the spare room in the apartment that Dean furnished with his first NOVAK paycheck and Dean retired to his own room, he can't stop thinking about Castiel and the way he moves in his tan trench coats.

Dean is jarringly woken up by Asia's _Heat Of The Moment_ playing from his phone and he seriously wonders why he's kept that song as his ringtone for this long. He looks at the caller ID: _Meg Masters_. He picks up, muttering, "Hello?"

“Winchester, Clarence is calling off Shurley's Heaven magazine shoot for April and replacing it with the Tom Ford shoot from June,” Meg says from the other end of the phone. “You need to pick up his coffee order on the way to the office right now and handle it.”

“Now?” Dean asks, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. He squints against the stream of sunlight coming through a crack in his curtains. It’s way too early.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Does Baby need his sleep?” Meg asks and Dean can practically hear her roll her eyes. “Get moving.” She hangs up before Dean can even mutter his half-hearted 'okay, okay', which just makes him grumble under his breath. When Castiel told him he could come in late today, he knew it was too good to be true. His job hours are whenever Castiel is awake and the man barely sleeps.

Dean instantly reaches for the notepad by his bed and writes down what he has to do, his handwriting even worse than it normally is because of how off-guard he’d been caught. She hangs up before he can say anything else. “Shit, shit, shit,” Dean mutters, getting out of bed to pick out something to wear. He skips past all the flannel shirts and chooses a simple outfit; A fitted black leather jacket, a distressed AC/DC shirt, and black jeans. Although, once he holds it up to his body to look it over, he cringes. “He’ll drag me for that distressed shirt.”

He hangs it back up in his closet and pulls out a different outfit that’s way more elevated than the original one he chose; A dark grey ensemble of an inside out zipped through cashmere and pants, along with a cream-coloured layered roll-neck underneath. He pairs it with black Louis Vuitton boat shoes and a grey blazer. The outfit, if he’d bought it with his own money, would have easily cost him well over $3000, so he’s more than grateful that Castiel had bought them for him. Thank God for Castiel’s altruism during Fashion Week. Dean’s closet has benefitted from it. 

He goes out to the living room and only Eileen is there. He taps her on the shoulder lightly and signs good morning, to which Eileen responds by signing to him that Sam is still sleeping. Sam shuffles tiredly out of the bathroom half an hour later, muttering a fatigued 'good morning' to Dean and pressing a kiss to Eileen's temple.

"I gotta head to work right now, so if Sam can just hurry and put on something nice... You can just borrow something from my closet," Dean says. "And Eileen, I've got a dress Missouri passed me to give to you. Hold on." He picks up a box from his room and passes it to her. "You can keep it, it's a gift."

"Thank you," Eileen says, eyes widened in surprise as she opens the box to reveal a beautiful navy blue Oscar de la Renta gold chain-embroidered cocktail dress. Missouri originally planned to pass him a pink and orange ombré silk chiffon wrap dress (also Oscar de la Renta) but decided that the cocktail one was better. Eileen hugs him and runs off to put it on and Sam smiles, watching her go.

"You have something I can wear in two minutes?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, come on," Dean says, leading him to his room. He takes out a black Marc Jacobs track jacket and pairs it with a matching track pant, with a black silk shirt, from the Magda Archer x Marc Jacobs collection. "This will do. Hurry up, I need to pick up his coffee too."

"His coffee order is insane," Sam mumbles, following Dean into the NOVAK lobby with Eileen by his side. "Seriously, who needs a coffee order that specific?"

"Well, he's a very unique man," Dean says, one side of his mouth tilting up in a grin. He waves hello to Lisa at the counter and then leads Sam and Eileen up to the top level. When the doors slide open and Dean reaches his desk outside Castiel's office, he smiles at the sight of coffee sitting on his desk.

Sam and Eileen spot it just as he does and Eileen asks, "He buys your coffee?"

Dean lifts a shoulder in a non-committal shrug, picking it up. "When he feels like it." He takes the lid off halfway and inhales deeply; it's still hot and the steam is warm where it kisses his face, and he feels great. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Dean knocks on Castiel's office door once and walks in with Sam and Eileen. Castiel has dressed in his Prada double-breasted wool coat again; Dean thinks that's probably his favourite coat. He also has on a Ralph Lauren Kent Glen plaid twill suit under it. His black hair is professionally styled as always, and his blue eyes stand out with his tie. He looks damn good. Castiel looks up from his computer and says, "Good morning, Dean. Are these..."

“Castiel, this is my brother Sam and his girlfriend Eileen,” Dean says, gesturing between them.

Castiel rounds the table to come to shake their hands, “Welcome to the NOVAK building. I can show you around if you’d like. I don’t have much going on until the afternoon, but I just need to wait on a call.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Dean can show us,” Sam says. Because he’s facing away from Eileen to look at Castiel, his hands move quickly to sign what he says so Eileen can understand.

Castiel picks up on it and a look of apology crosses his face. He signs as he speaks, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“You know sign language?” Dean asks, surprised.

"I learned it when I was young, there used to be a mute boy at the orphanage," Castiel explains.

"If I knew you knew it, I wouldn't have asked Kevin to teach me if I could've asked you," Dean mumbles, putting his hands into his pockets. Castiel cocks his head at him, narrowing his eyes, and Dean has to look away before the adrenaline starts to tingle in his hands.

Castiel turns back to Sam and Eileen and nods, saying, "Anyway, it's no problem. I don't mind."

Castiel shows Sam and Eileen around the building, and Dean realizes belatedly that he himself hasn't even been to every single floor of the building yet despite his duties as Castiel's errand boy. With level one being the lobby, two being the cafeteria, five being the studio and level ten being Castiel's office, Dean's only ever really been at four floors. His work friends usually meet him in the cafeteria or find him at Castiel's office so he never goes to their respective floors. Except for the one time, he visited Kevin just to see what he did as a garment technologist, but that was months prior.

Level one is the lobby and level two is the cafeteria, of course. Level three is an in-house runway they have set up so Castiel and other designers can do trial runs before any big fashion showcases such as collection reveals and Fashion Week. Level four is for hair, fitting and makeup before going to the studio on level 5 for a photo shoot. Gabriel stays there, most of his days. The studio floor also has a smaller office there for editing and photo selection. Level six is Castiel, Kevin, Balthazar and Meg's territory, the garment lab and general workshop. There are tons of works in progress there, half-done dresses, pantsuits, tuxedos, and so on draped over plain mannequins. Level seven just has a number of conference rooms, and level eight are admin offices, where Charlie is. Level nine is the famous company storage closet and the highest level belongs to Castiel, Dean, Rowena, Missouri, and Pamela.

By the time they're done with the tour, Castiel accompanies them to have lunch in the cafeteria. Eileen, Sam, and Castiel have an entire conversation with sign language that flickers so quickly that Dean eventually cuts it short, complaining about being left out. But Dean likes that his brother and friend are getting along with Castiel.

Castiel and Eileen choose not to eat so much, appetite lacking, so Sam and Dean gorge themselves on as much food as their plate can carry. Eileen makes an offhand comment about how embarrassing they are and Castiel laughs, signing something to her that Dean isn't well-versed enough to understand, but it makes a grin split across Eileen's face and that's good enough for Dean.

They talk while they eat, and Dean finds out that Castiel is actually not as deep-dived into pop culture as Dean thought he would be with his status. Apparently, he only keeps up with fashion trends and his personal clients, but otherwise tunes out everything else. When Sam makes a reference to Star Wars, it flies over Castiel's head completely which leaves the three of them in stitches as Castiel Googles it to find out what's so funny. He gives them an injured look when he understands.

Castiel also doesn't laugh often, which isn't news, it's hard to not notice after following the guy around for months. But when he does, it's a soft huffing thing, and his smile is small but warms the room.

Eventually, Castiel has to leave for the photoshoot and he invites Sam and Eileen to watch. "You may sit in on the photo shoot if you'd like. I don't mind." They jump at the chance, on account that Castiel is amiable enough to let them take a few photos together after they're done with the models.

When they enter the busy studio, Castiel says to Sam and Eileen, “There are chairs there if you want to sit. Please be quiet when we start shooting in about ten minutes.” He walks off to talk to Gabriel about makeup, leaving Dean, Sam and Eileen alone.

“This is so awesome,” Eileen says, looking around the studio. Light equipment and cameras were set up long before Castiel arrived — the main photographer, Gadreel, obviously learned his lesson from the time Castiel almost fired him for being unprepared. 

“I know,” Sam agrees. Dean notices that Sam now has the unconscious habit of signing everything he says. Dean’s picked up a little bit of sign language over the past few months -- he’d practised in his free time with Kevin so he could sign with Eileen when she came to visit. Before then, Dean didn’t get to meet her often since Sam moved to campus and then in with her, and Dean was too busy with fashion school to see Eileen or Sam.

Dean looks around the studio and almost rolls his eyes when his eyes instantly find Castiel. He sees Gadreel staring at them before he finally walks over to them, a warm smile on his face.

“Hi, my name’s Gadreel Eden,” Gadreel introduces as he holds out his hand, looking slightly flustered. Dean frowns at the way he’s looking at Sam — after the first time he met Gadreel, Kevin told him that he's kind of a creepy guy.

Sam shakes Gadreel’s hand, smiling politely, “Sam, Dean’s brother.”

“Oh, really? That’s cool, he’s a good P.A.,” Gadreel replies, giving Dean a quick look before turning it on Eileen. “Who’s this?”

“Eileen,” Eileen answers.

Gadreel nods, saying, “Well, we’re about to start shooting so make yourselves comfortable. Mr Novak doesn’t like noise on set. I’ll go get you guys some drinks.”

“No, no. You don’t have to,” Sam says quickly. “Go do your thing. We’re fine.”

Gadreel gives him an 'it's no problem' wave and goes off. Dean tells them that he's going to check with Castiel and catches up with Gadreel. "Dude, what was that?"

"Your brother is really cute," Gadreel blurts out. Dean's eyes widen at that and Gadreel remedies, "I just mean that I'd like to get to know him."

“Don’t even think about it, he doesn’t swing that way,” Dean shuts down. “Tried it in high school with some kid in his math class, decided guys just aren't for him. Forget it.” Gadreel frowns, glancing over at Sam and Eileen signing to one another, but Dean goes to find Castiel without waiting for his reply. He doesn’t really want to talk to him if he’s just going to ask him to set him up with Sam. “Hey, Castiel. Need anything?”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says distractedly. “No, just waiting for the models to come back in the clothing and then we’ll be ready to start shooting. I’ll try to keep it short so I can make that dinner.” Castiel cranes his neck slightly to glance at Gadreel and his brow creases in confusion, “Why is Eden...”

“Being a waiter?” Dean fills in, pressing his lips together in mild annoyance. “He’s smitten with Sam or something, I don’t know. I told him not to do anything but I guess I can’t stop him from getting him a drink.”

Castiel nods slowly, still frowning. “Gadreel has quite a reputation here. If he causes Sam or you any trouble, let me know.”

"I don't think it'd get to anything that dramatic, but thanks anyway," Dean says, offering up a small smile. Castiel calls for quiet on set and then Gadreel and the other photographers are snapping away, the flash blinding and the lights hot. Dean wonders how models do this so much.

Dean knows he's attractive, and he's been asked numerous times if he's ever thought about being a model. He used to let art school kids take photos of him for their coursework so he could get what little money they would pay him for his time and effort. They let him keep copies of the photos and he knew he looked good in them, but his skin gets hot and uncomfortable if he's under the studio lights for too long, and he's not big on makeup when he's getting sweaty.

Dean catches Gadreel looking Sam's way in between photos and he knows Castiel is watching him too, but he's sure Gadreel is just getting a dose of eye candy. It doesn't mean that it doesn't annoy Dean.

About two hours later, Castiel has approved the photos, and he thanks the models for their time. One of them gives Dean her phone number on a folded perfumed note. She's pretty, but Dean throws the number away.

"Thank you for letting us sit in," Sam says, standing to shake Castiel's hand politely. "It's so cool to watch you work."

"I only hoped it didn't bore you. I have to admit that sometimes, there are just other things I'd rather be doing than standing in a hot studio picking photos to use," Castiel jokes. He actually _jokes_.

“Castiel, you should leave now if you want to make your 8 o’clock reservation at Del Posto,” Dean pipes up before he forgets. Castiel checks his watch and nods.

“Okay. Then if you’re ready, we can go,” Castiel says.

Dean’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, not picking up what Castiel is putting down, “What do you mean?”

“You’re having dinner with me,” Castiel clarifies. “Unless Sam and Eileen would like to join us. I can simply ask for a bigger table.”

Sam shoots Dean a knowing look and says, “No, it’s fine. Eileen and I wanted to have fast food tonight. Dean, we’ll see you at home.” With that, Sam and Eileen say their goodbyes, leaving the office and leaving Dean and Castiel alone.

Dean asks, “Not that I’m complaining, but why didn’t you just tell me that I was the 8 o’clock dinner?”

Castiel shrugs on his Prada trench coat, smiling, “I think part of your job is to not ask questions.”

Dean looks at him, unimpressed, “No, my job is to do things for you and keep your schedule all neat. Nowhere does it say there’s a no-questions-asked policy. We’re not Lily and Marshall.”

Castiel’s smile only widens more in amusement at that, “ _How I Met Your Mother_.” He walks out of the office and Dean follows him, dropping the fake unhappiness and grinning.

Dean says, pleasantly surprised, “You watch rom-coms? I’d never have expected that.”

“Well, Gabriel binge-watched it when we moved to New York and refused to release the remote control from his death grip, so I watched it with him,” Castiel explains, locking the office door behind him. “I have to say that the ending was fairly disappointing.”

Dean barks a laugh, going to get the elevator as Castiel walks behind. “I know! God, Sam, Jo and I were so upset by it. We kept thinking, you know, the finale aired on April 1st, maybe it was a joke.” Despite the poor ending, watching the finale was still one of Dean's best memories in South Dakota. The way he, Sam and Jo lost it when they saw what happened and Ellen laughed at them, and Jo ranted while the ads ran on with Sam chiming in to agree here and there. Dean laughed so hard and said that sometimes, life throws you a curveball and you run the wrong direction. It happens.

They enter the elevator and Dean presses for the ground floor. As the doors slide shut, Castiel says, “I think Gabriel emailed the writers a very vulgar letter, but I don’t know. I do know that he was adamant that true love wasn’t real.”

“The show has its good parts, though,” Dean eventually says. “I just watch the alternate ending.”

Castiel’s gaze snaps to him, eyes widened slightly, “There’s an alternate ending?”

“You didn’t know? Oh my God, you’re missing out,” Dean gapes. “I’ll show you in the car. It’s so much better.”

In the car ride to the restaurant — which isn't that far away from the NOVAK building, but Castiel took the car for privacy reasons — Dean shows Castiel the ending. Castiel mutters about how he has to show it to Gabriel the next time he sees him and Dean responds by writing it down in his planner which makes both of them laugh. Dean likes Castiel's laugh; it bubbles out of him and it is sunny, and Dean likes hearing it.

They talk about TV shows and movie franchises they like; Dean finds out that Castiel actually quite likes science fiction, though he never had the time to get into it, and he didn't know where to start. Dean offers to show him and they can make a whole thing out of it, invite Castiel, Charlie, Kevin, Gabriel, and the others for a Star Wars watch party or something. Castiel says he'll think about it.

The restaurant is a thing of beauty — Italian food, a clubby dining room, and a grand piano. It's beautiful, it's expensive, and Castiel gets him one of those priceless menus and tells him not to worry about the cost, _just order whatever you want_.

Castiel is still a messy eater, but he wipes when he feels sauce on his chin and Dean thinks he just doesn't want a repeat of McDonald's. Dean understands, and he just keeps quiet about it, keeps to himself while he eats his expensive meal. He asks, "Why'd you invite me to dinner anyway?"

"I do this sometimes, just a thing I do," Castiel shrugs. "I've had dinner with Missouri, Pamela, Charlie, Kevin, Gabriel, Anna and a number of other employees."

"So you've run out of people to ask out for dinner and it's finally my turn," Dean grins. "God, Castiel. I thought you'd never ask!"

Castiel rolls his eyes, but with the hint of a smile playing in the creases of his eyes. "You forget yourself."

Dean just laughs and gets a forkful of this meal that the waiter recommended (which turns out to be pretty good) into his mouth. He asks, "Say, do you know how to speak Italian? I remember you spoke a little French in Paris but it was just basic stuff."

"I can't, not Italian," Castiel answers, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth to get the sauce that stains his lip. Dean's eyes follow the movement but it goes unnoticed by Castiel. "Je parle Français."

Dean instantly lights up, "Say something else."

"Bonne saint valentin," Castiel says mindlessly.

"Let me guess, something about valentines," Dean ponders. "Valentine's Day? Man, that's one month too late, Castiel."

"Well, it was the first thing that came to my mind. You asked me to say something else and I did," Castiel says simply. "Do you know any languages?"

Dean frowns, "Wasn't the best in school, but I know a little bit of Klingon." Castiel tilts his head and narrows his eyes at him, and Dean explains, "It's in Star Trek."

Castiel makes a face of recognition. "I should have known."

"TaH pagh taHbe," Dean recites.

"What's that mean?"

"To be or not to be," Dean beams. 

Castiel stares at him like he's grown another head which just makes Dean laugh again, and Castiel shakes his head. "At least now I know why you and Charlie get along so well."

They talk and talk, and it's practically the easiest thing in the world to do. They do talk to one another every day, amongst Castiel's many orders and Dean trying to keep up with his quick pace, but sitting down and just chatting about non-work related matters is nice. There is a tension in Castiel's shoulders that eases up when he smiles at Dean, and Dean thinks for just a moment if Castiel would be much happier if he wasn't doing fashion.

And Castiel listens. Dean often finds himself rambling for way longer than he intends to, and his hands move animatedly when he talks (which has led to people staring at his hands while in conversation with him) but Castiel says nothing, lets him talk until he's run out of words to say, and then he offers his input.

Growing up, Dean was never regarded as the smart Winchester with Sam around. Sam scored straight As in school, and Dean buried his report cards in Bobby's salvage yard. His attention span simply refused to last whenever a teacher opens their mouth, and he winged all his tests (which got him grades ranging from Ds to Fs).

When Dean mentions it in an offhanded comment, Castiel pulls it back and says, "Maybe you didn't get good grades, but you graduated top of your batch at Parsons and you're smart in different ways. You solve problems that I put on you faster than most of my other employees and your ideas are sometimes unorthodox but they work. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for."

When the food is gone, Castiel asks for the bill and he pays the whole of it, despite Dean offering to pay for his half of dinner.

"Thanks for that. I haven't had a good dinner like that in months," Dean smiles as they leave the restaurant. "Are you going home?"

“Going back to the office,” Castiel answers, already turning slightly to walk away. “Met Gala orders are coming in and I want to get started. The sooner I finish them, the less stressed I’ll be when I have to figure out Fall and Winter collections. I’ll hail a cab so you can have the chauffeur bring you home. Good night, Dean.”

Dean nods slowly before he jogs to catch up with Castiel. At his strange look, Dean smiles, nudging Castiel’s shoulder with his own, “I’m not letting you work late alone, come on.”

Castiel frowns, “What about Sam and Eileen?”

Dean waves as if to say it doesn’t matter and pulls out his phone, saying, “Nah, they’ll get it. I’ll just tell them not to wait up for me. It’s all good.” He shoots Sam a text to let him know that he’s staying late to help Castiel with Met Gala design drafts and Sam’s reply is almost instant, reading: _All good._ _Don’t stay too late, both of you. And don’t get all carried away._ Dean sends him a sarcastic reaction image and stows his phone away, beaming at Castiel who just rolls his eyes.

“You can go home, you know. Just because you’re my P.A. doesn’t mean you need to be around all the time,” Castiel tries. “Go spend time with your brother.”

Dean groans dramatically, looking up at the sky for a moment before looking back at Castiel, “Sam signed the permission slip. Can I _please_ go to the office with you now?”

Castiel stares at him, a glint of charm in his blue eyes as a slow smile starts on his face. “You’re not cute, Dean.”

“Excuse you, I think I’m _adorable_ ,” Dean gives him a shit-eating grin and says, “Whatever. I’m gonna call for the car.”

“You know what, let’s just walk. It’s not that far anyway,” Castiel suggests. Dean shrugs and walks by Castiel’s side.

They talk about anything that comes to mind on the trip back to the NOVAK building — Dean tells him about the time Sam found the weed Dean’s friend at the time got for him and tried it because he had no idea what it was and he got so ridiculously high that he thought his hair was some weird hat he’d been wearing for years. Castiel indulges in entertaining brother stories by sharing about back when they still lived in an orphanage, Gabriel tried to impress a girl by writing her a love letter but it ended up in the bag of another boy there and they wound up going on an actual date.

“He went through with it?” Dean asks, amazed as Castiel holds the elevator door open for him. “How did it go?”

“He actually liked the date. Forgot all about the girl and wanted the boy to go out with him again,” Castiel replies. The doors shut when Dean is in the elevator and it starts moving. "I don't think they ever made it official, though."

“Gabe is so ridiculous,” Dean shakes his head, though there’s a fond smile. “So, what’s the theme for this year’s Met Gala?”

Castiel answers, the doors sliding open, “China: Through the Looking Glass. Lady Gaga and Emily Blunt hired me to design for them —“

“Emily Blunt? Holy shit,” Dean practically gasps, trailing behind Castiel in awe as he unlocks his office door. Castiel flashes him a smile.

“I take it you’re a big fan.”

“Sam and I _love_ her!” Dean says excitedly. “I can’t believe I’m gonna get to meet her. Sam’s gonna be so jealous.”

“You know, if you want to meet her that badly, I could arrange lunch or dinner with her and you could invite your brother,” Castiel offers. He pulls out a folder from one of his drawers and Dean sits in the chair on the opposite end of the desk. "It wouldn't be much trouble, but I don't guarantee her free time."

Dean pulls a face as if saying it’s way too much work and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I'll see her at the Met, hopefully. What designs do you have so far?”

Castiel flips through the folder and takes out a few sheets of sketches, laying them out on the desk to show Dean. “For Emily, I liked this one best; this satiny material with dandelion patterns. There’s supposed to be a cape train, a dark dull blue. The actual dress would be silver.” He lays his hand on a different sketch and says, “For Gaga, this kimono sleeve cape coat with a black plunging neckline. There are going to be feathers in the coat’s train, a feathered headband to match. She’ll wear this sheer, sequinned catsuit underneath with heels. I’m thinking of silver hoop earrings.” He looks up at Dean who’s going through the sketches. “What do you think?”

“I think they’re great,” Dean says honestly. “I can imagine them wearing these and looking awesome. Man, you could literally get started on these tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel smiles wearily, sitting down in his chair. “I spent the past three weeks trying to come up with something that remotely fits the theme. I’m glad to see that these will work.”

"No problem. I could help you in the workshop tomorrow, if you're gonna work on them," Dean offers, and he curses the way he comes off timid.

Castiel shrugs non-committedly. "I'll see about it."

It's a good enough answer for Dean, so he changes the subject, "Do you and Gabe live together?" The question comes out of nowhere, fuelled only by Dean wanting to know more about him. It's actually a surprise that Dean still doesn't know if the Novak brothers live together or not, but it'd never come up in conversation with either of them so he never found out.

"We used to when we just moved to New York. We lived together in Hell's Kitchen for four years until we pooled enough money to move to central NYC," Castiel explains, leaning into his chair to sit across from Dean. "I went to the Fashion Institute of Technology then."

"Then you dropped out, right?" Dean chimes in. He adds just to make him not sound like a creep, "It's on your Wiki."

"Unfortunately. We couldn't get enough money for the school fees, so I learned fashion myself," Castiel says, a sad smile on his face. "At least God blessed me with good enough luck that I worked at a boutique that the fashion director for Vogue at the time liked and she gave me the start I needed."

"Are you religious?" Dean asks.

"I have faith. Do you?" Castiel returns the question.

Dean lifts a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. "Eh."

Castiel nods with understanding. "I get it. For me, I guess I like having something to believe in."

"Even with you being... you know?" Dean questions. "They're not always kind to people like us."

"I haven't visited a church in years," Castiel admits. "I read my Bible before bed when I'm not too tired that the words blur and I say my prayers before I fall asleep. It relaxes me, I think."

"That's good. You're way too uptight," Dean replies.

Castiel raises his eyebrows. "Uptight?"

Dean grins, "Yeah. You need to loosen up. Dance, do karaoke. Key someone's Ferrari, I don't know."

"Key someone's Ferrari?" Castiel echoes, his mouth tilting up at one side in a small, crooked smile. "Something tells me you're experienced."

"I'm not. I just always wanted to try," Dean assures. "Come on, there's gotta be something you do for fun."

"I don't have the luxury of time for a hobby," Castiel replies. Dean's eyes widen and he stands, reaching out to grab Castiel by his forearm to pull him up too.

"Let's go outside."

Castiel glances out of the window. "It's raining."

"Yeah," Dean smiles, green eyes glinting like sparkly raindrops on a leaf. "Let's go outside."

Castiel challenges half-heartedly, letting Dean lead him out of the office. "I'm in Prada, Dean."

"And I'm in Louis Vuitton, but that's not stopping me," Dean replies, still holding onto Castiel's arm and tugging him gently to the elevator. "If Prada was such a problem, you wouldn't have let me get you to the elevator." Castiel just smiles at that wordlessly, letting the doors slide shut behind him as they descend the building, painted by the thin yellow light overhead.

Dean drags Castiel out of the building and Castiel fights back uselessly, mostly because a part of him does kind of want to get out into the rain for a bit and forget about work.

The rain looks like thousands of tiny Swarovski crystals, illuminated by roadside lamps and passing cars in the deep night. Castiel instantly moves to shield himself from the raindrops until Dean raises an arm to pull down his, and Castiel lets the rain kiss his skin. There's tinny music playing from a car parked across the street, something rock that Dean's sure Castiel doesn't recognize, but he does.

" _Baby_ ," Dean sings above the rain. " _You're my angel._ "

"What are you doing?" Castiel asks, grinning. A teardrop catches onto his eyelashes and skates down his cheek.

" _Come and make it all right_ ," Dean continues, moving with the quiet music with a smile of his own spreading across his face.

Castiel rolls his eyes, and his smile seems to stop the rain. "You're ridiculous."

Dean reaches forward, lets his mind take care of it, and he intertwines his fingers with Castiel's, and he pulls him into a dance by the road, in the night rain. Castiel's mouth falls open, the instinct to protest clear, but he doesn't say anything and lets Dean lead him in a dance that's just a little off-beat with the sound muffled by rain.

Dean's eyes follow a stray raindrop that falls off the tip of Castiel's sharp nose that lands on his lips, and another that rolls down his cheek like tears.

There's something about Castiel in the moonlight, but his smile goes so well with the sun.


	5. mon homme

_Of course, I make mistakes. I’m human. If I didn’t make mistakes, I would never learn. You can only go forward by making mistakes._   
**Alexander McQueen**

In January, Gabriel told Dean to start up a Twitter account or something, build himself a social media presence now that he’s the first personal assistant of Castiel Novak. Dean decided that it can’t go wrong, so he creates a Twitter account with Charlie’s help under the handle of _DeansChevy67_ , even though it’s in no way professional, because _DeanWinchester_ was already taken by some fool who hasn’t been online since 2008. Sam was his first follower, his account bordering near 2000 and dedicated entirely towards lame law jokes, adventures of him and Eileen and funny anecdotes, under the username of _SamWLaw_.

Sam texts him after following, telling him to change his username before Castiel finds out about his atrocious handle. He suggests _NOVAKDeanW_ and Dean’s sure that it has got to be more forward than the one he has, which looks like it suits a personal account more. He changes it and Charlie heaves a sigh of relief and says that she wanted him to change his godawful username but had no idea how to say it without being mean about it.

Over the past four months, Dean’s profile has garnered a steady rise in following, and he’s close to 5000 followers. Apparently, they think he’s “super sexy”, he’s a funny guy and his fashion sense is impeccable. All of which he knows, so his following feels deserved. Plus, at least half his following are Castiel’s own fans wanting to catch glimpses of Castiel on his page, but Dean has no idea how to tell his boss that his followers want to see his handsome face. He does take photos with Anna, Gabriel, Kevin, Pamela, Rowena, and Charlie most of the time, and occasionally Meg, Balthazar, and Missouri. Even Crowley and Bela took a photo with him once.

Castiel apparently doesn’t have any personal accounts online, and the official NOVAK account is managed by the social media manager there, as well as Rowena since she’s the marketing director. Dean thinks that he should convince Castiel to start an account. There’s a curiosity about how many followers Castiel could get in the space of one day, and he already has a bet about that with Gabriel, Kevin, and Meg.

For now, Dean is inputting all the events in his planner into an online calendar — something Sam suggested, said it helped to keep his and Eileen’s cases and classes in check so they knew how to organise their personal time. It’s a good idea, and Dean separates the online calendar into two colours, blue and green (blue for Castiel’s blue eyes and green for Dean’s own, because why the hell not? Most of the calendar is blue with Castiel’s impossible schedule, and there are just hints of green here and there for Dean’s own happenings. For example, on his busiest day of April, Castiel has four different business meals in one day, coupled with two photoshoots, one refitting with a model who somehow got even thinner, and a meeting with designers. That same day, Dean has to call Jo to dress her for a date with some guy she met at the Roadhouse (that most definitely does not have Ellen’s approval).

Dean sighs loudly, throwing his gaze heavenward as he leans into his seat to take a break. He’s spent the last fifteen minutes making sure he’s got everything for April keyed in, correctly, and his eyes are already swimming in blue and green.

Castiel walks in right then, dressed in a single-breasted tailored jacket in serge wool gabardine with a peaked lapel, leather trims, and one silver button, a dégradé lamé-striped polo shirt, cropped mid-rise skinny jeans, D-ring pin-buckle belt, and Marius Oxford shoes. It’s completely black, with very nice silver and grey detailing on each item. It looks sharp and very good on Castiel’s body.

“Yves Saint Laurent?” Dean asks in way of a greeting.

“Yes, I’m meeting the creative director later, as I recall. I thought I should wear the outfit he designed for me,” Castiel replies. “Good morning, Dean.”

“Morning, Castiel,” Dean says before he starts to rattle off Castiel’s events for the day. “Alright, so you have a meeting with Crowley in two hours, and lunch with Anthony Vaccarello like you just said, at 12:30. After that, meetings with the designers from 2 to 4. You’re free after that for the rest of the day.”

Castiel smiles halfway, nodding, “Good. Alright. I’ll be going to see Kevin and check on the Met Gala materials and then I’ll be straight off to see Vaccarello. Before I’m back by 2, I need you to pick up my 10 scarves from Hermés, the polaroids from the shoot we did last week and ask Zeddmore for the social media analytics.”

“Speaking of social media,” Dean pipes up. “Why don’t you have an account for yourself?”

Castiel tilts his head and narrows his eyes at him. “Why should I?”

Dean flashes him a smile and says, “Because it’s fun! Look, come on. I joined Twitter in January and I have like 5000 followers. At least half of them want you to get an account.”

Castiel stares at him, a frown slowly cutting through his features, but he considers it and replies, “I suppose there’s no harm in it.”

Dean’s grin grows with excitement and he says, “You gotta follow me first before Gabe. He’ll be so jealous.”

“Then I will,” Castiel says with perfect cheeriness. “Anything else?”

“Well, since you’re asking...” Dean starts, giving Castiel his most sunny and persuasive smile. “You know that streetwear collection you photographed last month?”

“What about them?”

“I know the original pieces have been sitting in storage, so I was wondering if I could have them,” Dean throws out there. It had been a very busy photoshoot and it was menswear. Gadreel wasn’t running point on that shoot, much to Dean’s relief. He’s been trying to avoid him ever since Gadreel caught him in the cafeteria and asked for Sam’s number. Kevin swooped into the conversation and Gadreel quickly ducked out. Either way, Dean really liked the collection and even with his amazing paycheck, Dean figures if he can score some free originals, why not?

Castiel’s lip rises at the corner in an amused smile. “Opportunistic. I like that. Take what you want. The company closet is for anyone’s taking. Go crazy in there, and if there’s anything you decide you don’t want to keep, wash it thoroughly before returning it or just give it to someone else. I have to go now, please do what I asked you to do before I’m back, thank you.”

Once Castiel disappears behind the elevator doors, Dean runs off to the second one to retrieve Castiel’s Hermés scarves, excitement fizzy in his veins at all the great clothes he’s going to get himself.

Dean heads off to the cafeteria to have lunch after getting the polaroids and scarves and after he has texted Ed Zeddmore to leave a printed copy of the analytics on his desk before 2 PM that day. Ed responds half an hour after the text with a photo of the papers on Dean’s table, so he can rest easy knowing he’d completed all the tasks Castiel has given him so far. He texts Charlie to ask if she can come to meet him for lunch but she’s busy in Los Angeles trying to sort out stock with a branch of Enfants Riches Déprimés. Dean didn’t even know she was in Los Angeles.

Thankfully, Gabriel and Meg happened to already be at the cafeteria, so Dean sits with them as he eats the pasta that’s being served that day. He hasn’t had pasta in months, so the hot spaghetti is more than welcome. He walked in on Gabriel and Meg in a riveting discussion about Kevin.

Gabriel spears a chunk of loose pasta and says, fork in mouth, “We need to talk about Kevin.”

Meg rolls her eyes dramatically, stabbing a meatball with her fork. “No, we don’t.”

“What’s up with Kevin?” Dean figures he should ask before Gabriel bursts.

“He thinks he might be gay!” Gabriel spills. “Or bi. He doesn’t know yet.”

Meg mutters, “Yeah, say it a little louder, Novak. I don’t think his mom in Michigan heard you yet.”

Dean asks, “Why, what made him question it?”

“Dunno, Winchester. Think he saw you and his heterosexuality and common sense held hands and ran off into the sunset,” Gabriel says wistfully, reaching a hand out like he’s referring to a vast expanse of adventurous land. “This may be your fault, Dean-o.”

“Me? No way, he’s not my type,” Dean laughs, waving his fork at Gabriel’s face to urge him back to his side of the table. “He’s like a kid.”

“Kevin is five years younger than you,” Meg points out flatly. “A kid?”

“Well, yeah. He’s a little less than Sammy’s age so you know he’s always gonna be a kid to me,” Dean replies. “Plus, I rarely see Kevin. It’s probably that guy who works in the workshop with him, what’s-his-face... Harry something.”

“Spangler? Really, _him_?” Gabriel practically scoffs. “When that Alan Corbett guy is right there?”

Meg huffs out a breath over her coffee. “Corbett is sweet on Zeddmore from IT, he would never give Tran the time of day.”

“You guys always talk about your coworkers like this?” Dean asks, acting appalled. “I’m afraid of what you say about me when I’m not here.”

“Just that while Corbett’s sweet on Zeddmore, you’re sweet on my brother,” Gabriel says, attention snapping straight to Dean as his face falls flat. “Cut it out, it’s not cute.”

“Woah, this just got personal, okay. Reel it in, Gabe,” Dean says, raising his hands as if to surrender. “I’m not cute. I’m adorable.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but it’s obvious there’s no real malice beneath the expression, before he leans forward, slapping on an ironically enchanted look as he gazes at Dean through half-lidded eyes. “I bet you say that to all the boys, Dean.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dean flaps a hand at him to get him to lean back again. “No, I don’t.” He winks at Gabriel, something secret and teasing. “It’s our little thing.”

“I’m serious!” Gabriel insists. “I want to know if you really say that to all the boys or not.”

“First off, I like boys _and girls_ ,” Dean reminds. “Second, what, did Castiel tell you I said that?”

Meg gives Dean a hard stare as Gabriel’s eyes widen and he says, “It was just a shot in the dark. You said that to Cassie?”

Meg drags out an exasperated breath, sipping her coffee. “Here we go.”

Dean chuckles, tapping the base of his fork against his lower lip. "I don't get it, man. What's the big deal? At most, I'll ask him out. At worst, I'm not his type. What's so bad about that? Maybe he likes his guys a little less personal assistant."

Gabriel frowns in a way that's meant to be sympathetic, and says, "It's not about that, Dean-o. My brother isn't into guys, he told me himself. Just trying to save you some time and some heartbreak." Dean is slapped with the reminder that Castiel still hasn't told Gabriel that he's gay and he mentally slaps himself again for being so cavalier about it. Before Dean can come up with something else to say, Gabriel turns to Meg and continues, "Didn't that model say he thought Dean was hot?"

"Oh, yeah. Maybe we can set them up. Hey, Winchester, would you be up for that?" Meg asks, casting Dean a glance — she obviously can't care less about his love life, but it amused her enough. Distracted by Castiel yet once more, Dean waves them off half-heartedly and finishes up his pasta, muttering a goodbye and leaving them to talk about the hot models they met that morning.

He goes to Hermés to pick up the scarves after lunch, and the girl there gives them to him, all nicely packaged and in a large bag. The material is incredible on Dean's skin and he wonders if Castiel will put any of it in storage when he's done using them. He retrieves the polaroids, developed with a soft grain that looks beautiful, and is on his way back to the NOVAK building when Sam calls him. Led Zeppelin blasts from his pocket and he puts the phone up to his ear. "Hey, Sammy. What's up?"

"Dean, I'm gonna be in New York City for the next week or so to deal with a big-time client and wanted to ask if I could stay with you. Eileen's not coming, she's got classes to teach, it's just me," Sam says from the other end.

Dean nods, "Of course, yeah. You know, my boss likes you. He actually asked if you were gonna come visit anytime soon."

He can practically hear Sam smiling. "Well, I'm coming back. You better guard your job before I steal your boss and your man."

"Hey, back off, okay?" Dean laughs, mouthing 'thank you' to a woman who holds the NOVAK door open for him to walk through. "The pay's getting good and my life is expensive. I need this job _and_ this man."

"We get it, Mr Fashion Star," Sam jokes.

"Says you. Who's this big-time client you're here to see?" Dean asks, stepping into the elevator with a man from admin.

The doors slide close as Sam answers, "I can't go too into the specifics, but the gist is CEO versus an asshole. It would be easy, but there are way too many tiny errors. It's a whole mess, man. I might have to stay for longer than a week."

"How does Eileen feel about you staying here?"

"She's fine with it. Gave me a _great_ goodbye present."

"Oh, dude. Don't give me details," Dean gags, raising a hand in goodbye as the man gets off at level eight. "But good on you for landing that client. You're gonna destroy that asshole in court."

Sam replies, "I'm counting on it. Okay, so I'll probably be in NYC in two days, maybe in the afternoon. Should I go in myself or will you be there?"

Dean steps out of the elevator and starts making his way to his and Castiel's office, pinching the bridge of his nose as the bag's handles fall to his elbow. "Dude, I forgot to tell you. My lock got busted last week so I had it changed. I'll make a new key for you this weekend. Can you come straight to the NOVAK building when you land? Or I can get you from the airport. Maybe send a car for you."

"God, I hate the cab fare here. If Castiel's okay with it, can you send a car?" Sam asks and Dean just _knows_ he has a cheeky smile on his face.

"Yeah, I'll let you know later when he's back from lunch," Dean replies, putting the Hermés bag on Castiel's chair and the polaroids on his desk.

Sam asks, "Anyway, how'd you break your lock?"

Dean's fingers graze the framed photograph of the Novak brothers and Anna, all young and still in the orphanage, on his desk. "Gabe and Kevin thought it'd be funny to break in. It's no fun for _me_." Gabriel and Anna have messy makeup all over their faces in the yellowing picture and a grin threatens to break Castiel's stoic features. with Gabriel's arm around his shoulders. Castiel has a smear of electric blue eyeshadow across the tip of his nose, not as sharp as it is now with how young he was. There's hot rod red lipstick on the apple of his right cheek and Dean's pretty sure they got into a makeup fight before the photo was taken, because why else would lipstick be that high up and eyeshadow that low?

"I love that kid, Kev. Can't wait to see him again," Sam says.

Dean laughs, picking up the photo to look closer. "He's literally a year younger than you." Castiel looks carefree despite how serious he tries to keep his face in the photo, and a part of Dean wishes Castiel was always in such a pleasant mood.

"Still a kid to me."

“Everyone’s a kid to you, you gigantic asshole,” Dean bullies. When he hears the elevator doors ding, Dean quickly puts the photo down and retreats back to his desk. “Hey, Castiel’s back. You wanna ask him about that car?”

"Yeah, pass me over."

Castiel walks in, texting somebody. He puts one of the two Yves Saint Laurent bags on Dean's desk and says, not looking up, "Gift from Vaccarello." He finally brings his gaze upward and looks at Dean, holding out his phone. "Yes?"

"It's Sam, he wants to ask you something," Dean explains. Castiel nods and takes the phone from Dean, nodding along as Sam talks to him.

"Of course, I'll have a car pick you up, just let me know when you're landing and what terminal to pick you up from," Castiel finally says. "I'll bring you and your brother out for lunch, then. I'll see you soon, Sam." He passes the phone back to Dean, giving him a small smile before going into his office. "Thank you for running my errands, Dean."

Dean quirks a smile back at Castiel and he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder, rifling through the YSL bag to see what Vaccarello gave him. "What's this about lunch?"

"Eileen says airplane food may not be the best and honestly, I hate it, so I don't wanna eat the in-flight food. Castiel offered to take us out for lunch, is that okay? I can just go with him alone," Sam replies. There is a suggestive lilt to Sam's voice that Dean knows is there because he's poking fun at Dean's stupid crush on Castiel.

"I'm going, I'm going," Dean grumbles. "You don't have to play both of you up."

"Well, you did say he liked me," Sam says, grinning.

"Talk some more and I'll show you how much my fist likes your face," Dean threatens as a joke. "Okay, I have to go. Call me when you get here."

"Will do. Bye, Dean."

"Bye," Dean says, hanging up. Vaccarello gave him a Sac de Jour 72H duffle bag in grained leather and a tiny monogram east/west wallet in shiny leather that he's pretty sure has been sold out for the past two weeks. It's a good quality wallet which is just as well because Dean's current one is so ridiculously worn out and he's due for a new one. He leans forward in his desk to peer into Castiel's office. "How was lunch?"

Castiel replies, sorting through the polaroids, "It was good, thank you. Will you be free this Thursday for lunch with Sam?"

"Yeah," Dean nods. Sam and Castiel get along surprisingly well and since Sam knew Dean kind of has a thing for Castiel, he just knows if he lets Sam go alone, he will never hear the end of it. It's not as if Dean has anything special to do, but he'd wanted to stay in the office and spend his lunchtime to look in the storage closet for new pieces. He has all the time in the world to do that. Plus, Sam won't be able to rub in Dean's face how close he and Castiel have gotten and in turn make Dean jealous, which is ridiculous since Sam isn't even into men, to begin with. Sam just knows how to get to Dean.

"Good," Castiel beams. "Do you like your YSL?"

"Yup," Dean grins, waving the wallet at him. "I'm not into bags, though. Maybe I'll give it to Eileen. Or Sam." Castiel offers a short laugh, and Dean asks, "Did you get a bag and wallet too?"

"No, I got Wyatt harness boots, this Lavallierè scarf, and a suit that'll be coming in on Friday," Castiel says with a smug smile. "Jealous?"

Dean pulls a scandalized face, " _Very_. Why are you getting a whole new suit and I get just a wallet?"

"Be grateful he got you something. You didn't even have to attend the lunch," Castiel rolls his eyes, organizing the polaroids into a small stack. He places it neatly on Dean's desk and says, "Pass these to Rowena, she'll handle it. I have to go now to see the designers but you may go off after handling the polaroids, I don't have much other business but I'll call if I need you."

"Alright, good luck with the meeting. Meg's all buzzed on coffee," Dean warns. Castiel waves to him without turning around, leaving his office. How Dean just _loves_ watching Castiel go.

Thursday rolls around fairly quick and Sam arrives at the NOVAK building with luggage with a week's worth of clothes and business suits. Dean and Castiel go to the lobby to welcome him and Dean gives him a big hug, and Sam shakes Castiel's hand. Castiel tells him to pass his luggage to Lisa and she'll take it up to Castiel's office so they can go for lunch without his baggage.

He takes them to Daniel at Lenox Hill, which is a French restaurant that Dean would think is more appropriate for dinner. Just as well, it ends up being quite empty and it's not a surprise that the reservation was so easy to place. Castiel originally planned to bring Sam to Per Se, but they have a strict dress code and Sam is dressed in what Castiel whispers into Dean's ear is the ugliest flannel shirt he has ever seen which makes Dean laugh so hard that Sam regrets leaving all his clothes at Castiel's office.

Lunch goes well. Sam tells them about a kid in Eileen's class who's actually a fan of Castiel's and started turning in homework on time just so Sam would put in a good word for her to Castiel. It has Castiel laughing and Dean tells them about how Kevin got a document stuck in a printer and tried to fix it, only to have the same page printed twenty times over as he scrambled to fix it. Castiel offers some stories of his own too, and Sam shoots Dean a knowing smile when he listens too intently for it to be purely out of politeness and respect. Castiel lets Dean pay half the bill, to Dean's delight.

Dean thinks the day is going perfectly until he hears someone call out to him when the three of them leave the restaurant. "Dean, Sam."

They all turn around and Castiel narrows his eyes, cocks his head. Dean's learned that it's a habit of his that makes itself known when he's confused or curious. It's cute, but for now, Dean feels the same when he sees that the voice came from John Winchester. He's dressed in layers of denim and flannel, hair messy and curling at the ends like Sam's does, and his eyes are tired. "Dad?"

"We should talk," John says, looking briefly at Castiel.

Castiel says quietly, "I can go back to the office first, and you may come back late if you need to."

"Come on, we can just go back. I don't have to talk to him," Dean says, unconsciously catching onto Castiel's sleeve. Sam glances between them and John, unsure of what to do. Most of his memories with John have been lost to time due to how young he was, most of his fatherly memories made with Bobby and Dean, so all he knew was that he would go along with whatever Dean wanted to do.

Castiel discusses, "I know you think you don't want to, but you want answers, right? Why he's showing up only now?" When Dean doesn't answer, Castiel says, "Talk to him, find out what you want to know. Nobody said you had to give him a place in your life."

"You're right," Dean decides. He turns back to John, still standing a few feet away in front of them, and says, "Fine. We'll talk."

The three of them end up in a small café nearby while Castiel calls a car to pick him up. A part of Dean doesn't really want Castiel to leave them alone with John but he knows Castiel doesn't want to intrude on his family issues and Dean's not sure he wants Castiel to see any ugly turns their talk could take. John never had anything good for them. John orders coffee and neither brother orders anything, full from lunch and agitated enough to not even get a drink. John starts, "You must have some questions."

"'Some' doesn't even _begin_ to cover it," Dean says. "Where the hell did you go?"

"Minnesota," John answers, refusing to lift his stare from his coffee mug. "Windom, specifically."

"Why?" Sam asks, his eyebrows pulling together like confusion.

John stalls, uncertain, but he finally pulls his eyes up to look between Sam and Dean. "I have a son there. I was here because I was visiting him at work but ran into you two while waiting for a cab." John starts rambling on as if his words would make them forget the bomb he just dropped. "I didn't think I'd ever see you two again. You know, I always wondered what happened --"

"Sorry, wait, you have a son in Minnesota?" Dean cuts over him, already feeling anger bubbling deep within him. "How old is he?"

"Dean —"

"How old, Dad?" Sam asks, his voice steady, but Dean knows him well enough to be aware when he's about to explode. 

"A year younger than Sam... Twenty-three," John answers, remorse dancing across his words, and Dean runs a hand over his face — John had a kid with someone else when Mary was _still around_. "He just got a job at Lenox Hill Hospital."

He mutters, "Jesus fucking _Christ_." Sam gives John the harshest glare he has in his arsenal, folding his arms and looking away. His jaw clenches with unspoken anger.

John says, "I'm sorry, boys."

"Sorry? You're _sorry_?" Dean echoes in disbelief. "How could you do that to Mom?"

"I was drunk, it was a mistake, but she wanted to keep the kid. Who am I to make her get rid of him? I went to help with him when Mary died, try to get my shit together, but —"

"But you just forgot you had two sons waiting for you at home, right? No big deal," Sam says bitterly. "It's _fine_ , you know. Go, fix yourself. Bobby took us in great." Hard sarcasm has edged its way into Sam's voice, making them sharp like knives.

“Sam, what are you talking about?”

Dean snaps, “You’re not the only one destroyed by Mom’s death!” He draws in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself but it is only Sam’s gentle hand on his arm that steadies his fluctuating irritation. “Dad, I am glad to see you, okay? Don't get me wrong, I am. I'm glad you're alive. But you have got to fucking understand that when you left that house, you didn’t leave Mom. You left _us_. Don’t you see?” John is quiet after that, watching the last trails of thin white steam dissipate into the air as his coffee falls to room temperature. Dean breathes in long and slow, feels how still Sam is next to him and says, "I get that you were depressed over it. We were too. You don't get to just leave us without explaining yourself."

"I'm here to —"

"See the son you didn't fuck over," Sam says, spiteful. "Seeing us was just a coincidence."

Dean nods minutely in agreement and stands. "This has been nice and all, and that's overselling it, but I need to go back to work." Before John can do anything else, Dean storms out and hears Sam say something to John before following him out. When he's sure John didn't try to follow them, he asks, "What'd you say to him?"

"Just that he's got no right coming back," Sam says, his face now unreadable. Sam's the only Winchester who actually likes talking out their troubles. Dean does it with enough insistence but Sam's the one who initiates it. Ironically enough, he's also the Winchester who has the best poker face so no one can tell how he's feeling if he doesn't want anyone to know. "Come on, let's just go back to the NOVAK building."

When they come back, Castiel takes one look at their faces and doesn't ask how it went. He already has coffee he bought on the way back to the office that he offers them, and he lets them sit moodily around his office as he finishes up his work for the day. Dean's grateful for it, and by the time evening rolls around, Dean asks Sam to wait for him in the lobby because he wants to talk to Castiel. Sam obliges and tells him not to take too long and once his figure disappears behind the elevator doors with Missouri and Rowena, Dean turns to Castiel.

"He had another son," Dean blurts out.

Castiel blinks, wide-eyed, but finally asks, "How do you feel?"

"I know it's not the guy's fault, but I... I can't help but be mad at him," Dean says, leaning against the desk next to Castiel. "And I'm mad at Dad because he had the other kid before she even died. And I'm just — I'm so mad."

Castiel rests a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You have the right. Your father is ridiculous, no offence."

"None taken," Dean huffs out a small laugh. Castiel doesn't say that he's sorry, and doesn't offer a pitiful hug, and he doesn't try to get Dean to say more than he wants to. He doesn't do any of the sappy shit Dean doesn't want to get and Dean likes him so much. He sniffs, runs a hand over his face. "I should go, Sam's still downstairs."

"You can come in late tomorrow if you have to," Castiel offers.

"I'll be here on time," Dean promises. "But thanks. Good night, Cas."

Sam stays past a week and Eileen had offered to fly over and leave him more clothes for his extended New York stay, but Dean tells her he'll give him new clothes from NOVAK's closet instead. Sam finds an interest in Versace and Armani in particular, and Dean has to stop him from taking more than he needs, saying that he doesn't want Cas to ban him from the closet.

Spending much-missed one-on-one time with Sam proves to be like a dose of fresh air. The one person on the planet who's closest to Dean is Sam, and it's nice being able to hang out with him like the old days when they didn't live five hours apart, Dean helped dress Sam for dates and Sam berated Dean on his messy bedroom. They quickly forget about the encounter with John, or they at least quietly decided to avoid discussing it altogether. John doesn't make himself known again, anyway. Though it may not be by choice since he doesn't have their numbers and Bobby changed his number at least thrice in the past twenty years so it'll be hard to trace them down again.

Sam spends his downtime with Dean or on a joint video call with Charlie and Kevin, both of whom Sam had gotten extremely close to. When he's working, Dean stays out of his way because he tends to sigh a lot and Dean's tired of warning him of getting stress lines.

Cas is understanding in his own way — he stills gets him coffee while Dean buys him his, and he may still rattle off orders the moment he comes through the silver elevator doors but at least he doesn't think to mention John again. 

Dean likes Cas a lot. He likes how he just _gets it_. He likes how good he looks in his Prada trench coat and he likes his rare smile when the moonlight streams in through the window. He very simply just likes Cas.

But between Gabriel insisting that Cas isn't into anyone, how devoured by his work Cas is and the way he hasn't mentioned a single thing that could lead Dean to believe the feeling is mutual, Dean's more than sure that Cas, in fact, doesn't feel the same way about him. Maybe it's a professionalism thing and Dean wonders that if he wasn't his personal assistant if Cas would say yes if he asked him out. Over the years, numerous failed relationships dotting his life's timeline, Dean would say he's great at knowing if someone is into him or not and Cas isn't.

Then again, Cas tends to be unpredictable and Dean never knows what he's going to get. So, maybe he liked him. Maybe he didn't. Dean typically likes the dance on the fine line between friends and a little something more, and although Cas danced with him that one night in the rain, it's not like it's something he does often, and dancing gets tiring after a while.

So after Cas gives him the task of stealing a model from Harper's Bazaar that he claims is too good to be wasted on that magazine, Dean accepts the model's invitation to a dinner for two. (This has Sam absolutely bewildered, asking him _what about Cas_ , to which Dean had nothing else to say except _when did he become Cas to you?_ )

He keeps it a secret from Cas but he tells Charlie, Gabriel, and Kevin about Pax Luck from Harper's Bazaar, newly employed at NOVAK, and about the nice candlelit dinner that they shared at The Modern which ended with a kiss that Charlie claims is way too innocent. Dean doesn't tell anyone that he pictured Cas when he closed his eyes.

Obviously, all three of them can't keep their mouths shut, and Missouri talks to him in the elevator about how she thinks Dean's crush on Cas is painful to watch now that Pax is in the mix, but she doesn't reply when Dean asks her what she means. Pamela slaps him on the ass and praises him for landing Pax and Dean offers a weak grin because of the part of him that wishes he'd landed Cas instead.

He doesn't tell Cas about Pax when Cas asks him if there's anything new. Sam thinks he's being fucking ridiculous about his crush on Cas and maybe he is, but Cas is too far in the wrong closet to say yes if Dean asked, and it's not like Dean is remotely in his league to begin with, so Sam can keep bullying him about it. Dean knows he's doing the best option — go out with the hot model and try to get over this pathetic high school crush.

With a little Luck, maybe Dean will forget about the way Cas smiles in the thin orange light of the lamp when they're both alone in the office.

Castiel finds out about Pax Luck from Rowena, who he overhears laughing about Dean and Pax with Crowley over the phone. He wishes he can say he isn't surprised, but he is. He thought he and Dean had a good thing going on, honestly. He liked Dean, at least, he liked him enough to think about abandoning professionalism and asking him to dinner again but perhaps in a more romantic setting. He liked how free he felt around Dean as if he didn't have tons of things on his to-do list and he didn't have a spotlight on him whenever he left his house.

Dean is special, Dean is different. Dean's just... _Dean_. Somehow he puts Castiel at ease like they're always stuck in the night they danced in the rain. But he's with Pax now, and a part of him wonders why Dean kept it from him. He thought they were friends, but he guesses there's just that wall between friend and boss that Dean doesn't want to scale. He doesn't blame him.

He keeps his mind off of Dean when he finds himself staring at him through the office door.

He's having lunch with his brother, Meg, and Balthazar, who all, for some reason, manage to find out about every little thing that happens in the building. It's almost like it's part of their jobs. They eat in his office — he doesn't always let people eat in there except himself when he doesn't have time to go out for food, but they filed in and refused to leave — talking about the latest gossip. Castiel tunes most of it out because he can't care less, but then Meg tears him right out of the careless state he's in.

“Oh, and Winchester’s dating the model you stole from Harper’s,” Meg says in that drawl of hers, though her eyes are watchful as they follow Castiel. “Pack, was it?”

It had been an intentional miss of his real name, and Castiel knows Meg is just trying to provoke him, yet he can’t help but correct her bitterly. “ _Pax_ Luck.”

"Oh, I hear saltiness," Balthazar says blasely. "What's wrong, Cassie? Upset that Dean didn't tell you?"

"No, he can do whatever he wants," Castiel mutters, stabbing a forkful of the mac and cheese Missouri baked for some of the employees that day.

"Maybe he's jealous that Winchester's getting some," Meg smirks.

Gabriel waves his own fork near Castiel's face, teasing, "I told you I could hook you up with a supermodel but you always turn me down."

"Because I don't want to. I'm fine as is, stop it," Castiel pushes Gabriel's face away from him, causing the older of them to laugh and resume his meal. They move on from Dean after that, talking about Gabriel's messy attempt to matchmake Alan Corbett and Ed Zeddmore, but all Castiel can think of now is that Dean is at lunch with Pax.


	6. désolée

_Don’t spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door._  
**Coco Chanel**

Cas does follow Dean before Gabriel when his account is created under the handle of _castiel_ , which Dean is just tremendously jealous that he could get such a great username. He wishes he could get _dean_ or _winchester_. To Dean’s complete amazement and expectation, Cas sails well over 500,000 followers by the first day and has just under 3 million when the end of the week rolls by. Dean’s following boosts up with the creation of Cas’s account since Cas decided to promote him to spite Gabriel.

Things with Pax are slow, mostly because Dean doesn’t want them to go fast, but apparently Pax is cool with it so there’s no bad energy between them. Dean isn’t really sure if Cas knows about them or not. He hasn’t said anything about Pax but he’s a lot more steely of late. Why would it even matter to him anyway? It's not like Cas likes him back. Plus, maybe it’s because the Met Gala is happening very soon and he’s stressed once more. 

Cas invites Dean with him to Met Gala, saying that Gabriel had a date and wouldn’t cancel. Gabriel insists that he was just sick of attending Met Gala for 2015 and that he’d rather let Dean experience it in his stead.

Dean is given a custom suit Cas ordered from Versace. It has a beautiful gold on black print on a Barocco Brocade suit and Cas tells him it’s worth at least $5000. Dean admires the way the print shimmers under light. Cas himself has a full Emporio Armani fit -- a double-breasted jacket in bark-effect jacquard, jersey fleece trousers with a logo patch, a gold stripe lining up the sides, lace-up shoes and a dark blue button-up print under the jacket. With the running theme of black and gold, Dean can't help but notice that they're matching.

Cas looks sharp and good and Dean thinks Pax deserves so much better than this, than Dean staring at Cas coming into the office to tell them they should leave now. As they walk to the car, Castiel says, “Check with Meg to see if she’s still available for the summer runway, she’s supposed to be managing it. Naomi Intel is leaving on the plane for Vegas at 4 PM tomorrow, so the jackets she’s supposed to deliver better be at the office no later than 3. Call Mark Cain and confirm dinner.”

“At Pastis? Done, I did it this morning,” Dean says.

Cas nods in approval and adds, “Cancel that meeting with Toni Bevell this Friday, I don’t want to see her.”

“Why?” Dean asks, keying his instructions down into his phone as he follows Cas to the car.

“She’s irritating and I despise her,” Cas answers, rolling his eyes. Dean smiles at him, amused. Cas gets into the car and Dean goes in after, shutting the door. When the car starts to move, Cas continues, “Remind me that I have to call Chuck Shurley tonight. Keep your schedule clear next week, at least for the afternoons.”

“Sure thing,” Dean replies, typing. “Anything else?”

“Vanity Fair magazine wants to borrow Pax Luck this Wednesday for a photoshoot, let him know,” Cas finally says after a moment passes.

Dean says awkwardly, deciding that he should tell him, “Cas, Pax and I...”

“I know,” Cas cuts over. “You tell my brother, arguably the biggest blabbermouth in the company, and expect it not to get to me?”

Dean winces. “On the basis of hope.”

Cas barely directs his eyes heavenward before huffing quietly. “That’s all.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the ride, but Dean feels the awkwardness when the chauffeur shoots him a look in the tiny mirror. Dean doesn’t have an answer to any of the questions in his eyes. Cas’s gaze stays out of the window.

The Met Gala itself is a lot more buzzed than Dean thought it to be. Celebrities dressed in the most popular labels walk past the long line of photographers, turning every which way and posing with pleasant smiles. It’s not Dean’s first time in front of a camera, but it’s his first time in front of so many. The flashes go off warm on his face and he resists the urge to blink and tries to listen when photographers ask him to smile or give them a look over the shoulder, or to wink, or whatever else they want him to do. They compliment his suit and he tells them with a practised but stunning smile, “It’s Versace.”

Dean’s aware that he’s been talked about in tabloids and fashion magazines since his status as Castiel Novak’s personal assistant gained traction. Most of it just talks about his impeccable fashion sense, how it’s to be expected to come from Cas’s P.A., and about how hot he is. Dean appreciates the ego boost. Some of the tabloids go a little crazy though, and he’s seen at least three that have mentioned Sam. He hopes they don’t dig too deep, he doesn’t like having too much personal information out there. Sometimes, it’s nice to keep some things to yourself.

Dean had the outfits sent over to Emily Blunt and Lady Gaga, and he was happy to catch glimpses of them wearing Cas’s creations so elegantly. Cas seems satisfied as well when he looks over at them, but other than a wave across the room, he doesn’t actually go over to talk to them. Without Cas around, Dean fears the idea of him making a fool of himself, so he doesn’t make an effort to try and talk to Emily.

They take photos of him and Cas separately and together, and the way they stand side by side is so horrifying awkward that Dean is sure that the tabloids will have a field day piecing together what could possibly have happened between them to make their poses so stiff. They barely even say more than twenty words to each other the entire time, _somehow_.

Dean at least gets to befriend a few celebrities there, and at least two ask him what’s with the weird energy between him and Cas, to which he lies and says Cas just forgot his morning coffee. It’s an easier answer than saying “I don’t know”. About three actors give him his number, one of them with the intention of having some fun in the bedroom, and accepting her number must be some red flag when he’s dating Pax, right? But she’s an actress, which means she attends award shows and premiere parties, which means she’s a potential client. Dean rationalizes a defence for himself and Pax is not even there.

Cas decides to skip the afterparty that a couple of actors are hosting at one of their mansions, saying goodbye to some celebrities and raising a hand to shield his eyes from the onslaught of flashes that go off when the car arrives to pick them up. Dean gives the paparazzi his best award-winning smile before retreating into the car after Cas. The ride back to the office is no better. It’s only when they’re both alone outside the NOVAK building that Dean finally asks, “What?”

“What?” Cas echoes, turning slightly from the door to look at Dean, cocking his head in that endearing way of his.

“What’s this? This... Weird thing. What?” Dean asks, vaguely gesturing at him. “You’ve been out of it all night. What’s wrong, Cas?”

“Nothing,” Cas replies. Cas never lies, at least not often, so Dean still doesn’t know of any of his tells. He doesn’t know when he’s lying or not. When Sam lies, he tends to bristle and look away. When Jo lies, she gets flustered and giggles a little too much. When Ellen or Bobby lie, they get this weird macho act and get defensive. Cas? Cas is unpredictable. Dean still doesn’t know what he’s gonna get with him.

Cas sighs, “Look, just go home. Talk to your brother, your family, your boyfriend. I’m going home too.”

Dean lingers, hesitant to leave them like this, but eventually nods, “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Dean,” Cas says, flagging down a cab. Cas apparently lives at the higher end of New York City, a condo on at 69th Street if Dean recalls correctly. Dean’s never visited because he’s never been invited. He’s not sure if anyone other than Gabriel has been to his place. Maybe Meg and Balthazar, but even that’s questionable.

Cas’s cab disappears into the dark of night and Dean huffs a breath, waving down another cab for himself to go home.

When he reaches home, it's a little past 1 in the morning and Sam’s sleeping in front of the television — dressed in a distressed AC/DC shirt that Dean remembers seeing at the bottom of his closet and an embarrassing pair of red and white stripes shorts. His hair sticks up in the back as his head rests on the top of the couch, his snores the only thing louder than the action movie playing. It’s a miracle that the explosions haven’t woken Sam up. His computer is open on his lap and Dean puts his bag down, going over to take the laptop out of his hands and setting it down on the table. He turns to switch off the television and Sam blinks, awakened by the action.

He stares blearily at Dean and asks, voice slurred with sleep, “Hey, how was the Gala?”

“Good, good. Got a couple of celeb numbers,” Dean brags half-heartedly. “Go to your room and sleep. This is gonna hurt your back like a bitch when you wake up tomorrow.”

Sam curls up on the couch, shaking his head. “I like it here.”

“Don’t make me drag you, bitch,” Dean mutters, taking Sam’s empty coffee mug and putting it in the sink. He’ll wash it when he’s not so tired in the morning. Sam straightens up and stands, running a hand through his hair.

“How was Cas?” Sam asks, moving past Dean to clean the mug instead of leaving it to tomorrow.

“Cas is good,” Dean replies.

Sam rubs his eyes and then looks him over again, squinting. “Okay, answer me again but don’t lie this time.”

“I’m not lying,” Dean gapes.

Sam frowns, unimpressed. “You think you’re good at lying. You always do that weird half-smile when you lie about this kind of thing.” He puts the dried cup in the cupboard and turns to lean on the counter. “What’s with Cas and Pax?”

“I don’t know,” Dean answers, shrugging as he leans against the doorway. “Cas found out about me dating Pax today.”

Sam raises his eyebrows and huffs a breath of air, “Still don’t think Pax should be your boyfriend, but...”

“Okay, why do you think that?” Dean asks, looking up from a spot on the floor to Sam. “He’s great! Yeah, he’s sarcastic, his humour’s a little deadpan, but he’s also nice and —“

“— _and_ ,” Sam cuts over pointedly. “Seems like your replacement for Cas.”

“Who are you to judge anyway,” Dean mutters, glancing away. Maybe he tried to forget it but he knew what went through his mind when he took Pax up on that dinner date. He knew Pax was just a placeholder for Cas. “Didn’t you —“ He immediately cuts himself off, waving his hand. “Never mind.”

Sam bristles, he stiffens up and folds his arms. “Dean.”

“Sorry I brought it up, it’s not the same thing. I’m sorry,” Dean starts.

Sam clenches his jaw like he has something to say, but he shakes his head, “You’re tired, I’m tired. Whatever. Forget it.” Dean tries to apologize again but Sam changes the topic again, “What did he think about you and Pax?”

Dean is hesitant to reply with the line he toed earlier on but eventually answers, “He acted weird all evening.”

“Obviously. You and Pax came out of nowhere,” Sam says. His lighthearted tone from earlier has been lost, much to Dean’s remorse. It’s now flat and like he’s just waiting for the conversation to end so he can get a drink. “Look, give it time, okay? He’ll come round.”

Dean frowns. “You’ve had this conversation before.”

Sam raises his hands and then lowers them back onto the counter as if saying ‘the jig is up’. “Well, yeah. Cas and I talk a lot.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “Since when?”

“Uh, dude. Texting exists,” Sam says simply. “Don’t stay up too late.”

When Sam shuffles down the hall to the guest room, Dean runs a hand over his face and drags out a long breath. He’d narrowly avoided referencing Sam’s first girlfriend from high school, Jessica Moore, who he had bought a ring to propose to when they both turned 20 only to have her die from a bank hold-up the same day. Her death destroyed him and in true Winchester fashion, he never talked about it to anyone. There was one time he and Jo sat Sam down and refused to let him leave until he vented at least a little to them, and he cried and cried.

Jess would remain a sore spot for Sam for the rest of his life, and Dean felt awful about almost bringing up the way Sam got together with some girl with a degree in hotel management half a year after who looked an awful lot like Jess, down to the mole on her face and the pleasant smile. Sam broke up with her the moment she broke the illusion by asking him to meet her parents.

Even after his pain over losing Jess faded away inch by inch and Sam met Eileen, nobody dared to mention her. Dean once walked in on Sam talking to himself, which is Dean’s first thought, but then he realized Sam’s hands were clasped in prayer and he was asking for permission to move on.

Sam is the praying type. Dean’s never tried except for the one time when Sam drank himself half-blind a week after Jess died and Dean prayed to God to help his brother because he doesn’t know how to.

Dean wrings his hands uncomfortably before he drops them, noticing that they look like he’s about to pray, and turns off the kitchen light to walk back to his room.

He wonders what Cas prays about.

Sam was still asleep by the time Dean woke up to leave for work so he left a chocolate waffle he got him for breakfast, along with a note saying that he was sorry and that he'll give him his birthday gift when he's home from work.

Dean reaches the office early, dressed simply in a red round-knit sweater and black denim tapered jeans, both from Vivienne Westwood that he bought with his own hard-earned money, and a B.zero 1 four-band ring with rose gold loops set with pavé diamonds from Bvlgari. He’d looked the ring up online — it cost over $7,000, so he’s lucky Balthazar got tired of it and decided to bestow it upon Dean. And lucky that Dean liked rings and necklaces in the first place.

Since he’s early, he gets started on all the orders Cas gave him the previous night. He calls Naomi Intel from Marie Claire magazine to remind her of the NOVAK jackets she has to return after borrowing them for a photo shoot. He calls Raphael Finnerman and confirms his dinner with Cas at Pastis. He calls Toni Bevell’s agent and cancels her appointment. He leaves a note on Cas’s desk to remember to call Mark Cain. All that’s left is Meg and Pax, so he goes to deal with Meg first, figuring that he can tell Pax later during lunch.

Dean finds Meg at level three, at the in-house runway. His eyes track Anna’s trademark red hair to find her sitting on the runway stage, talking to other models, all of which are dressed in a NOVAK collection. Gabriel is there with another makeup artist, touching up their faces. He finally spots Meg at a foldable table, eyes scanning her computer screen. She tucks a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear, mouth moving minutely as she reads off of her screen.

“Meg,” he calls out.

She glances up at him and straightens up, “What do you want, Winchester? I’m busy.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll be quick. Cas sent me to ask if you’re still available for the summer runway show,” Dean says. Instantly, stress seeps into her features and she looks back down at her laptop.

“God, this is so fucked up,” she mutters under her breath. “I have this stupid fucking event to attend in Las Vegas on the same day but they’re not letting me cancel, and Bel wants me to be there but... this is a NOVAK runway we’re talking about,” Meg spills, dragging a hand through her hair as she lets out a loud, long sigh. Dean found out just last week that Meg was dating Bela Talbot after being introduced to her by Cas years ago. Dean uses the term ‘dating’ loosely.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says sincerely. “But I really need an answer.”

“Give me till this afternoon. I’ll give you an answer,” Meg bargains, already beginning to guide Dean to the exit. “If Clarence asks, tell him that.”

Dean nods, letting her push him into the elevator, “Okay, okay. I’ll let him know. But you gotta tell me before 3, at the latest.” Meg waves him off and the elevator doors close, so Dean heads to level 5 where he knows Pax is doing some shots with Duma in the studio. The doors slide open and he sees Pax posing and Duma snapping away, so he stands quietly to wait for them to be done. Pax’s face lights up when he sees Dean, but there’s only a twinge of guilt that twists in his gut.

“Can we take five?” Pax asks and Duma gives him a thumbs-up, going over to the computer to check on the photos she’s taken. Pax walks over to Dean and pecks him on the lips, “Hey, Dean.”

“Hey,” Dean says, unable to shake the uncertainty in his chest. It all feels wrong, especially after Met Gala. “So, Cas told me to tell you Vanity Fair wants to borrow you this Friday. Can you make it?”

“Yeah, I can,” Pax nods, taking a quick glance in the mirror to make sure he’s not sweaty from the studio lights. “Just tell me when to be at Vanity Fair’s office and I’ll be there.”

Dean runs a hand awkwardly over his thigh, looking around the studio. “Good, good.”

Pax notices his discomfort and gently nudges his shoulder with his own. “Hey, you okay? You look spooked.”

“No, yeah, fine,” Dean assures, but he’s aware of how unconvincing he’s coming off. “I’ll see you later, okay? I need to get Cas’s coffee before he arrives.” His phone vibrates and he reads it before waving the phone at Pax. “Plus, Louboutin’s got new shoes waiting for Cas that I have to pick up too.”

Pax half-smiles and pats his arm, “Then you should get going. I won’t see you at lunch, a couple of the models are going out and they invited me. I’ll call you later?”

“Or not,” Dean says. He quickly amends, “I mean, you’re under no obligation to call me.” He barely resists rolling his eyes at himself and says, “Do whatever you want. I gotta go.”

Did Dean say things were slow with him and Pax? Yeah, things weren’t just slow, they’re not moving _at all_. With Cas being all weird at the Met Gala, Dean’s regretting a whole lot of things — mainly, saying yes to Pax and telling Gabriel about it. He regrets getting defensive about it to Sam. He regrets the way Cas looked at him at the Met Gala.

Dean pushes all thoughts of Cas out of his head and gets his new Louboutin shoes and his coffee, just a few minutes before Cas usually comes in.

When Cas comes in at 9:30 sharp that morning, he doesn’t have Dean’s coffee in his hands. He takes his order from Dean and downs the hot beverage down his throat in one go, dumping the empty coffee cup in the trash can in his office. He does it all without a word to Dean, and the first thing he says is, “I need 7 jackets from Westwood. Ask Crowley when he's free to meet up. I need to have Tessa Reaper at 10 AM tomorrow. Ask Kevin for the samples of new fabrics he’s working on. Did Meg confirm?”

Dean’s brain catches up with Cas’s spitfire orders and finally answers his last question, “She said she has something in Las Vegas to attend on the day but she’ll give you a solid answer by 3 today.”

Cas snaps his fingers as if recalling something. “The Oscar de la Renta show, right. Well, tell her I need an answer by 3 because I need to get a replacement manager if she can’t do the show.” Cas doesn’t bother saying anything else or waiting for an answer, going into his office and calling who Dean assumes is Mark Cain from Armani.

Dean goes for lunch because there’s nothing else to do until he gets an answer from Meg. He’ll get the Westwood jackets after eating and he’d already called Crowley and Tessa. Kevin promised to send the samples up after he has lunch. Charlie came back from London two days ago and is back in New York, much to Dean’s happiness. He loves Charlie a lot and it’s not a far stretch to say that she’s his best friend. He hugs Charlie the moment he sees her, pulling her close and saying, “It’s so good to have you back.”

“Hi,” she grins, hugging him back. She pulls away and passes him a Westwood bag, “I got you a new jacket when I was in London. I hope you didn’t get too muscly for it while I was gone.”

He smiles wide and takes the bag from her. The jacket is in a box and he supposes he’ll wait till he’s back upstairs in the office to open it. He says, “Thank you.”

“Come on, let’s eat! I’m starving,” she says, dragging Dean by his arm to get food from the cafeteria. They’re serving hot ramen noodles today and Charlie is shocked that Dean’s never tried real ramen before. Ellen’s tried to cook some once or twice and Dean’s had instant ramen which totally doesn’t qualify, plus the time Sam cooked it halfway before he dropped the entire pot of it all over the kitchen floor because he underestimated how hot the handle was going to be. So yes, Dean has never tried real ramen.

“Trust me, it’s amazing,” Charlie promises as they get themselves seated, two steaming hot bowls of ramen on a plastic tray in Dean’s hands. Charlie puts down her bags of presents and takes her bowl from the tray, mouthing ‘thank you’ to him as she picks up her chopsticks. “So tell me what’s up with you.”

Dean shrugs, “Well, things with Pax are rocky, things with Cas are rocky, I was on rocky land with Sam and everything is just... rocky.”

“If I have to hear the word 'rocky' one more time...” Kevin says from behind them, sitting in the empty space next to Dean with his own bowl of ramen. “So happy to see you, Charlie.”

“I have new shoes for you! I’ll give them to you later,” Charlie says excitedly before turning back to Dean. “Come on, talk to me.”

“I don’t think things are working out with Pax. You know, it just feels like this isn’t the right move,” Dean admits. “And Cas has been all iffy since he told me he knew I was dating Pax, it's like he’s got this wall up. It’s kind of frustrating because I don’t know if it’s because I’m dating Pax and he doesn’t want me to half-ass being his P.A. or what. And I was talking with Sam about it and I almost brought up something I shouldn’t have, so I’m just generally fucking everything up, bit by bit.”

Kevin thinks it over before saying, “If you don’t think Pax is right then just break up with him. You guys aren’t that serious yet, as far as I know. He hasn’t even met Sam, right?”

“Well, no,” Dean ponders.

“There you have it! Break it off,” Charlie agrees. “And nobody knows what Castiel’s thinking. He’s kinda...”

“Unpredictable,” Dean fills in. “I know.”

Kevin adds on, “And just apologize to Sam. Cook him something, I don’t know. Asian families don’t apologize, I wouldn’t know how to do that.”

“Haha, very funny,” Dean says sarcastically. Kevin grins, wide and shit-eating, and Dean shoves his head playfully. “I left him his favourite waffles for breakfast today, maybe I’ll try to get home early, make him pasta. He always liked that.”

“Good, all solved!” Charlie smiles, taking a forkful of ramen into her mouth.

Kevin decides it’s alright to change the subject and brings up, “I heard Meg can’t do the summer runway.”

Charlie gapes, putting down her fork, “No way. Why not?”

“Las Vegas Oscar de la Renta show,” Dean replies.

Charlie frowns dramatically, “But the runway is such a good opportunity. There are tons of Oscar shows, can’t she cancel?”

“She said they won’t let her. I think the seats are all confirmed and they don’t want to deal with finding people to fill the seat or it’s very exclusive,” Dean shrugs, taking a forkful of his ramen. His eyes widen and he eats another bite. “Holy shit, this _is_ good.”

“Right?” Charlie grins momentarily. “Hey, Dean. If she can’t do the show, why don’t you take it?"

Kevin stares at her, “Charlie, Meg will _kill_ him.” Simultaneously, Dean says, “Meg will kill me.”

Charlie frowns in thought and explains, “Well, if she can’t do the show, _someone_ has to do it, right?”

“But...” Kevin trails off, unable to come up with any argument. “If you ask me, I’d rather pass up the runway than getting killed by Meg Masters.”

Charlie reaches over to pat Dean on his head, saying, “Dean’s tough. You could totally take Meg.”

“I doubt it,” Dean mumbles through his mouthful of ramen. “I swear, she’s like a demon.”

By 2:57 PM, Meg’s end is still silent and Dean can tell that Cas is getting impatient waiting for her answer. He pipes up from his desk, “I can call her.”

“Forget it,” Cas says, turning to face him. “How confident are you at managing a runway?”

“Balthazar and Meg taught me about it during Fashion Week but I think you should let Meg have the job,” Dean says carefully.

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly through his nose. “I called Bela, she said the show isn’t budging on guests unless they have emergencies. Unsurprisingly, a runway doesn’t count.” He looks back up at him, “So can you or can you not do it?”

“I’ll do it,” Dean finally accepts, feeling guilt settling deep within him.

“Good. Don’t disappoint me or you’re fired,” Cas says simply. “Where are we on Pax with Vanity Fair?”

“He’s doing the shoot, he just needs to know what time Friday,” Dean answers. “Kevin’s samples should be coming up any time now. Crowley suggested tonight and Tessa for tomorrow at 10. The Westwood jackets are in storage right now.”

Cas nods, leaning against his desk, “Alright. Tell Crowley I can’t do tonight, I’m going out with someone else.”

“Can I ask who?” Dean asks.

Cas’s eyes are steely when he answers. “Sam Winchester.”

Dean pauses. “Sam?”

“I’m sorry, am I not allowed to take your brother out for dinner?” Cas asks. Dean shakes his head slightly, not knowing what to respond with, and Cas waves him off. “Tell Crowley to pick a different day. I’m not free tonight.”

“Why are you having dinner with him?” Dean asks, fingers tapping on the back of his phone.

“Because he’s my friend and I like to take my friends out for meals,” Cas replies snippily. “Confirm my reservation at Jean Georges at 7. That’s all, Dean.”

Sam comes back nearer to 10 at night and Dean’s already antsy from waiting for the moment Meg finds out he stole her runway gig, so when he opens the door, he blurts out, “What took you so long?”

Sam stares at him strangely, hanging his coat up on the rack. It’s new, Dean notices, and Sam answers, “Dinner with Cas ran on a little, he took me to see some New York sights. What’s wrong? You look like someone just died.”

Dean sighs, backing away and looking over at his wrapped gift on the coffee table. “Nothing, just waiting on something. Anyway, how was dinner?”

“Good, yeah. Food’s great and New York’s beautiful. Cas got me this coat from, I think, Lacroix?” Sam says, pointing to the grey trench coat as he completely butchers the pronunciation of Lacroix. “Why, what happened at work?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Dean waves off, moving to retrieve the gift. He holds it out to Sam, slapping on his best plastic grin, “Happy birthday, Sammy.”

Sam smiles and takes it from him, saying thank you as he tears off the wrapping paper. Like they’ve done for every present they’ve exchanged, Dean wrapped it in the comic pages from newspapers. Dean had made Sam a bomber jacket from scratch, which coupled with Cas’s gift, seems kind of redundant now. That’s two pieces of outerwear he’s gotten in one day. The jacket is lapis blue and shimmers where the light hits the crinkly material. There are Sam’s initials sewed onto the breast of the jacket with gold thread. Sam pulls it on over his shirt and grins. “Hey, it fits.”

“I asked Eileen for your updated measurements. It would be pretty embarrassing if she got it wrong.” 

“Thanks, Dean. I love it,” Sam says, bringing Dean into a hug.

Dean pats his back twice before pulling away, replying, “Looks like Cas kinda stole my idea, huh?”

“You kidding? You made this yourself, right?” Sam asks, touching the ‘SW’. “This is the best gift I’ve gotten.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Dean smiles. He glances over to the kitchen and says, “Hey, if we’re both free tomorrow night, maybe we can use Ellen’s cake recipe, make you a birthday cake.”

“That’d be great,” Sam beams at him, taking off the jacket. He explains, putting it down on the back of a chair, “I don’t wanna make it all smelly, I haven’t showered all day.” He settles into the couch, asking, “So what happened at work?”

“Meg was busy on the day of the NOVAK summer runway so Cas asked me to take the job as her replacement,” Dean replies. “She’s gonna murder me at work tomorrow.”

Sam assures, “I’m sure it’s fine. If it wasn’t you, it was gonna be someone else.”

It’s not fine. After a whole week of successfully dodging Meg in the halls of the NOVAK building, she finally catches up to him. “Winchester, I am gonna disarticulate all of your limbs and feed them to small, ugly hounds from hell.”

“Okay, okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Dean says, raising his hands in surrender.

“You _stole_ my gig!” Meg explodes.

He repeats Sam’s words, “Look, if I didn’t take the job, he would have given it to someone else because you didn’t tell him on time. Cas gave it to me because you weren’t there when the clock hit 3! This is _not_ my fault.”

Meg’s hands coil into fists and she points accusingly at him. “I don't care if he puts you on the guillotine. You’re supposed to say no!”

“I told him he should give you more time but he handed it off to me,” Dean replies, running out of patience. He was genuinely sorry for stealing the job from Meg but coupled with Charlie and Sam’s reasoning and the fact that Meg didn’t show up to tell Cas if she was available or not, added with his personal stress over Pax and Cas, Dean is tired of it. “I’m sorry, okay? But this was not my choice.“

“Saying yes was _your_ choice,” Meg says bitterly, readjusting the black Faye mini chain bag by Chloé on her shoulder. “Don’t talk to me ever again, Winchester.”

The next time Dean sees Pax in the NOVAK building, he’s with Cas, scrambling after him to note down what Cas wants him to do. He wonders how he survived this long without either man crossing paths but he knew his luck wouldn’t stick around.

Pax gives an easy smile, holding out a hand, “Good afternoon, Mr Novak.”

There is a pause — too short for Pax to catch, but too long for it to go unnoticed by Dean — before he takes his hand in his, shaking it once with a firmness that Dean knows by now that Cas reserves for people he doesn’t like. “Luck.”

One thing about Pax is he’s good at reading social cues, so it’s no surprise he picks up on Cas not liking him very much. He glances at Dean, unsure, and says, “I have to go, Joey wanted to grab lunch before we meet Gadreel. Dean, I’ll see you later?”

“He’ll be busy,” Cas cuts in.

Dean remains notably free for the rest of the day, actually, after he does the few errands Cas has bestowed upon him. He even has time to go to the nearby McDonald’s with Kevin, Rowena, and Gabriel. They sit at the same table he and Cas sat at the last time they were there and Dean tries not to think about it.

Rowena tells some embarrassing childhood story about Crowley that has Kevin and Gabriel in stitches, but Dean can’t really find it in him to offer more than a half-hearted chuckle. He just eats his cheeseburger, makes a few noises here and there to show he’s listening and remains silent when they all walk back to the NOVAK building.

When he sees Cas, he’s talking to Inias in his office. Cas smiles, laughs, talks with him until he leaves. It unsettles Dean, though he knew they were somewhat friends, and doesn’t Inias already have a girlfriend?

After Inias leaves, Dean asks, “What’s with Garrison?”

“Nothing, just having a chat,” Cas says dismissively. “Did you do everything I asked you to?”

“Gilda Goode will come over tomorrow afternoon to pass you the Hermès pants and Chuck Shurley wants to preview your summer collection for an article for Heaven magazine. Charlie says that Bloomingdale’s is running low on NOVAK suits. That’s all,” Dean lists off from his notebook. He closes it and brings it down to look at Cas. “Are you and Inias...”

“Stop jumping to conclusions,” Cas says, partially irritated. “When did what I do become your business?”

“When you hired me, _sir_ ,” Dean says pointedly.

Cas stops himself from rolling his eyes and says, “Doesn’t matter. Look, you have Pax and I have my own issues.”

Dean narrows his eyes and tilts his head. It quickly processes that he’s picked up the habit from Cas and he remedies it, straightening up. “Is Pax an issue for you?”

“No,” Cas says. "Leave me, I have to do work."

“No, I want to know why,” Dean says, moving closer. “I’m tired of this, why does my being with Pax bother you so much?”

Dean has underestimated the amount of space between them because now he is way too close to Cas for this to be comfortable for either of them. He’s close enough to Cas to see the way his irises move slightly as if scanning his face, and the way his soft exhale feels over his mouth. Cas seems to take the distracting moment to redirect the line of questioning to Dean, replying, “You tell me. Why does being with Pax bother _you_ so much?”

Cas steps away first and Dean snaps right out of it, frowning, “Excuse me?”

“That’s right. Why does it bother you?” Cas repeats, finding footing in his side of the argument. “You second-guess everything that happens in your relationship, you get too anxious about what other people think about you two — I know you well enough by now. I can see that your relationship hasn’t moved an inch since it started. Maybe you don’t want it to move forward. You barely talk about him with me and you have talked openly about your personal life." He finally closes the space between them again. “Don’t ask me why it bothers me so much when my personal assistant clearly has issues of his own. Sort it out before you slip up in the job, Winchester.”

Dean swallows and his mouth is dry. Cas is right on every point.

Cas stares at him again and it’s like he’s grabbing his soul with his bare hands. It’s deep and Dean feels like he’s being told something he can’t decode, and Cas says, voice icy like steel, “You forget yourself, Dean. Here, in this building, I am still your boss. Ask me what my problem is one more time and I’ll show your employment status what a problem really looks like.”

Dean had forgotten what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Cas’s coldness and the reliving of it is unwelcome. He nods, saying quietly, “Sorry, Cas.” Cas exhales loudly through his nose, something sharp and agitated, and Dean adds, “You’re right, this is just all wrong to me.”

He turns to look at him, and Dean watches the way Cas shrugs out of his Prada trench coat, hanging it up on the rack. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry for implying that it’s your fault. It’s not, you didn’t do anything,” Dean continues and at this point, his brain is telling him to stop talking, that he’s going on for too long now, but his mouth won’t shut up. “Pax is nice and all but he’s not...”

Cas raises an eyebrow, deciding to take the bait. “Not what?”

 _Not you_ , Dean thinks, but the words that come out are, “Not right.”

Cas moves to sit at his desk, looking up at Dean from where he’s seated. “You’re telling the wrong man.”

Dean can’t bring himself to break up with Pax. He knows he should. He’s not as into Pax as Pax is with him. Pax is sincere and he likes to buy him gifts, but he’s also a little too competitive for Dean’s taste, he chews on the ends of his plastic straws, there’s always that one strand of hair that can never go the right direction, and his mom Fortuna doesn’t like Dean, and Pax is very simply not Castiel Novak. Even if he looks like Castiel with a beard when he squints his eyes. But Dean thinks this has got to be better than being alone. He always hated being alone — just because he’s used to being left behind doesn’t mean he likes it.

Sam still disapproves, obviously, and Dean wonders just how much do Sam and Cas share between each other. At this point, they might as well be a reality show and replace that _Sam & Cat_ show that ended last year on _Nickelodeon_. Their bond makes Dean both uneasy and tingly. He likes that his brother and Cas get along so well, but what if Sam tries to play matchmaker and tells him that Dean is a sucker for the way Cas looks in his favourite trench coat?

Meg still absolutely refuses to even be in the same room as him. She has nothing against Cas at all which Dean thinks is pretty ridiculous since he’s the one who pulled the plug on her. Dean chalks it up to how they’ve been friends for years and she knows Cas was trying to get his event in order. Dean just happened to be in the line of fire. Balthazar assures him that she’ll get over it at some point in her life. He doesn’t give him an estimation. Charlie does apologize for encouraging him to take the runway from Meg though. Kevin says that’s just how life is in the fashion industry; You’re inevitably gonna have to walk over your friends to get to a higher stage — the only thing you can control is whether you’re going to do it in Manolo Blahniks or Jimmy Choos.

Sam says his case is almost wrapped up and he’ll be on his way back to Stanford any day now. He does promise to come back with Eileen to watch Dean’s first runway though, which is always good. Even Jo, Ellen and Bobby promise to visit and watch the summer show. Dean returns their gesture with the promise to backstage passes so they can meet Cas and see his pieces up close.

Cas is still steely, and he only gets more so when Pax is there. While Dean understands that Cas is riled up because Pax makes Dean distracted (and not even in a good way) and he wants his errands done right, Dean still doesn’t get it because Cas is getting too bothered around Pax for it to just be about work. He can’t, for the life of him, figure out why. Sam claims he doesn’t know despite how much he talks to Cas in his downtime. Dean knows Cas only gets this tense when he's stressed but the next awards season isn't for a few more months and other than the summer runway next month, there isn't much for Cas to get riled up about. Maybe Pax is just a way for Cas to fixate his frustration over something else.

Dean has got to stop psychoanalyzing people.

But this is ridiculous and sad and pathetic because Cas is being such a dick about everything but Dean can't stop thinking about him. This has to be a new record or something for how stupid Dean can be. It's almost like Dean's in a romantic comedy except there's nothing romantic about it and the only joke is him and his infatuation with Cas.

He just wishes Cas would lighten up and actually talk about the shit that bothers him instead of putting his issues in a bottle and drowning it with a bottle of alcohol. Dean's literally stopped buying cigarettes just so Cas won't be able to get any from him if he ever gets the itch. Dean's one to talk, though — It's not like he likes parading his problems around either. He just wishes he had a poker face like Sam's. Curse him for being so easy to read, a damn stranger on the street could tell if Dean burned his cooking the night before with how transparent he is.

Dean hopes that when June rolls around, things will start looking up for once. Maybe this rough patch with Pax and Cas will fade and they’ll all look back on this and laugh, and Meg will be at her next runway show wondering why she was ever mad at Dean for taking this one in her stead. Sam will be a big-shot lawyer that’s too busy to exchange high school gossip with Cas and Dean won’t think about the way Cas’s breath felt on his lips when he stood so close to him that day.

Dean won’t think about how Cas’s eyes looked under the pale moonlight with the rain catching onto his eyelashes and he won’t remember the way his hands shook when he told Dean that he was gay. Maybe when June rolls around, Dean will look at Cas in the summer air and think that he’s not that much of a catch anyway, that this was a ridiculous phase and the crush was so stupid.

Or maybe, just maybe, when June is here and everyone’s in a sunny summer mood, things with Pax magically throw itself out of the window and fall out of Dean’s concerns. Cas won’t be so steely, and Dean will finally ask him out —

Dean rolls his eyes, leaning into his chair as his fingers rap tirelessly on Cas’s coffee cup. With this endless train of thought, Dean might as well be doodling D+C in an arrow heart all over a Chemistry textbook. Why not go all the way and pull Cas into a supply closet and make out with him? He’s like a goddamn high schooler. 

“Holy shit, you’re pathetic,” Dean mutters to himself, hiding his face behind his planner notebook.


	7. bisou

_When you do something you love, you have a passion for it. It comes naturally. Staying true to yourself and doing what you love keeps you going... everything else falls into place._   
**Christian Louboutin**

Castiel’s crush on Dean gets worse by the day. It doesn’t help that it has been a long while since he has last been in a proper relationship with someone that lasted longer than a cab ride to their apartment. His first boyfriend from high school thought Castiel was too indulgent in things like smoking and drinking which, to be fair, maybe he shouldn’t have been deep-diving in those frankly problematic areas at 17, but Castiel has always been a stressed-out person.

His second boyfriend died in a car accident, four years after he and Gabriel moved to Hell’s Kitchen. It destroyed Castiel and Gabriel tried his best to make him feel better. Gabriel liked him, but after he’d moved on a few months later, he couldn’t figure out why Castiel was still just as torn up as when he first got the news. Gabriel didn’t know Castiel was dating him. His boyfriend was understanding enough and he himself was in a similar plight anyway and they were both perfectly fine with keeping it to themselves.

Sam’s ex-girlfriend Jessica died too and it surprisingly served as a way of bonding for Castiel and Sam. Castiel lies and says it was a girlfriend, not a boyfriend, though. No matter how close they’ve gotten, he just didn’t feel comfortable telling Sam yet. Maybe someday.

Castiel felt bad about his “outburst” about Pax with Dean, and he knew it was none of his business as much as his personal life wasn’t Dean’s business, but once the words started to fall out, he couldn’t stop them and they just kept going and Castiel can feel himself screwing up the good friendship he’d built with Dean.

He’s sure Sam doesn’t talk about Dean on purpose -- he thinks he just forgets that Castiel isn’t just his friend but also his brother’s boss because they get on so well. Castiel has to admit that in the conversations, he forgets that Sam is his P.A.’s brother. Sam gets excited when he talks sometimes and goes on to ramble and, while a quality that Castiel appreciates to fill the silences, he knows it’s not something Dean will appreciate in the long run when he starts spilling his personal information and he doesn’t want to ruin the brothers’ good relations. Castiel makes a mental note to stop Sam when he starts saying too much about Dean. 

Castiel really needs to apologize to Dean too because he knows Dean well enough to hazard a guess that he’s probably beating himself up over it and it’s not his fault that Castiel doesn’t know anything about coping with something like smothering jealousy.

The thing about Castiel is that he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions properly. When he was upset over a kid stealing his Superman water bottle back in the orphanage, Castiel tore up the boy’s worksheets and flushed it down the toilet, which earned him an hour of standing in the corner. When he failed a test in school, Castiel crawled up to the roof of the library and stood there until Gabriel found him and asked him to come back down. It’s not like he was going to do anything stupid, Castiel just didn’t know what to do with this failure in his veins so he climbed up and stayed there. When Castiel lost his second boyfriend, he’d just stare into nothing quietly for hours. It could be the grief talking but Castiel wouldn’t know.

He acts like he’s not bothered, but he wished he had people who actually helped him with this instead of the people at the orphanages who told his older brother that Castiel is a weird kid who eats his meals by ingredient and gets this mad about a Superman sippy straw water bottle that he was getting too old for. He wished someone would show him how to handle all this anger and feelings because he’s too fucking emotionally constipated to know how to get it all out in a healthy way without pushing people away.

For fuck’s sake, he’s done it with plenty of people who have ended up telling Castiel to stay far away from them and he has tried to get better but his impulsiveness gets the best of him and he’s doing it again with Dean of all people. Dean is so good and he doesn’t expect Castiel to be perfect and he didn’t want to screw it up with him. Dean’s too important.

Castiel buys coffee for Dean in the morning. It’s a small gesture and he knows it’s not enough so he pairs it with getting him and Pax a reservation at a nice restaurant that serves the best French food in New York City that evening at 8 and does all his work the previous night from home so Dean can take the day off if he wants. It’s still not enough, he knows it isn’t, it can’t be enough for how much of a dick he’s been.

But it’s the furthest Castiel has ever gotten and it’s a start.

Dean picks out a Tommy Hilfiger crest embroidery peacoat to wear that day, black with four gold buttons down each side. With it is a beige Dolce & Gabbana shirt with a pin-up patch and matching cargo pants. Simple navy velvet suede loafers by Jimmy Choo.

By June, Sam is back in Stanford and Dean has been alone in his apartment for at least a week. It’s a lot quieter than he’d become accustomed to with Sam around but he’ll make do. Dean’s feeling particularly better because Sam apologised for being an asshole about Pax. Dean forgives him but warns him not to judge him and his relationships again. Asking for an apology from Cas for saying all that he did is like pulling teeth so Dean would rather not push his luck and just take it if Cas is in a good mood or not. The Emmys are coming up in a few months anyway and there are already orders being placed for custom suits and dresses and he knows that doesn't bode well for Cas's patience.

These days, the only thing on Dean’s mind is making sure he gets the runway perfect. Balthazar and Gabriel are more than helpful with showing him the best effects and tips for a successful runway, and Bess Myers, a stylist, shows him how to ensure that the runway set is as good as it can possibly be.

Dean buys Cas’s coffee and picks up the two NOVAK suits from Neiman Marcus that Charlie needs to evaluate and makes it to the office by 9, so he sits around figuring out the schedule, marking out his and Cas’s events by blue and green tabs.

Cas reaches work at 9:30 as always and he places a coffee cup down on Dean’s desk. It surprises him — he hadn’t expected Cas to get him coffee. Dean looks up from his computer, absently taking it. “Thanks, Cas.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas blurts out. “It’s not my business and has never been. I shouldn’t have been taking out my frustrations on you, you or Pax never did anything wrong, I’m just... I don’t know how to deal with anything like a normal person. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Dean says again, sincerely. “It’s okay.”

Cas insists, “It’s not okay. I crossed boundaries and frankly, I was a massive asshole.”

“Maybe,” Dean says carefully. He doesn’t want it to sound like he’s accusing Cas of being an asshole. Yeah, he _was_ , but Dean’s not looking to get fired for calling his boss a dick.

“You can call me that if it'll make you feel better,” Cas sighs. “I’m sorry, Dean. I really am.”

“It’s okay, asshole,” Dean replies, revelling in the fact that Cas just let him get away with calling him names. “Water under the bridge. Just... don’t do it again.”

Cas nods, adding nervously, “Of course. I wanted to make it up to you, so I made a reservation for you and Pax tonight at 8 for Bouley. It has an 80’s aesthetic to it and I remember you wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt once. I thought you might like the retro setting.”

Dean stares at him, mouth falling open, “Cas, you didn’t have to...”

“I _want_ to,” Cas says steadily. “It doesn’t make up for poking into your business when I shouldn't but I hope it makes up for my attitude with Pax.” He hesitates and draws in a short breath, like his chest has gotten too tight to take in any more, and says, “What I said about me being your boss... It’s true, but you’re also my friend above anything else, Dean. I treasure our friendship. As your friend, I’ll support you and Pax if that’s what you really want. And I’m really sorry, I was rude and you were just trying to talk. I’m trying to be better for you.”

Dean smiles, something small and forgiving, “Thank you, Cas.”

Cas looks down at the linoleum tiled floor and clears his throat before dragging his gaze back up to Dean. He says experimentally as if testing the waters to see if they’re back on good terms, “Westwood suits you but you look good in Dolce & Gabbana.”

Cas is dressed in full Givenchy; a coat and skinny pants, both in the same technical iridescent cotton. Wing low sneakers in white leather and a matching plain white v-neck from what Dean thinks is probably a cheap retail shop. Dean returns, “Givenchy’s great on you but I miss your Prada coat.”

He smiles at him, hopeful and sunny. Dean thinks that smile looks better on him than any branded apparel in the world.

Cas has lunch with Bela and Meg, so Dean eats at a new cake shop that opened just ten minutes away with Crowley, Missouri, and Gabriel. Crowley works for Bela and became friends with Cas through that. The only thing that Dean knows about their friendship is that they’re closer than anyone thinks they are. He’s Rowena’s son but he rarely talks about her as much as she does about him.

“All I’m saying is that if Benjamin doesn’t want to get stuck with studio cleaning duty then he shouldn’t have stolen my candy bars!”

“Always about the candy,” Crowley mumbles in his British accent. Dean would put Crowley’s voice as his second favourite voice to listen to, right under Cas’s. Cas’s voice is like thick gravel on a dark road, Crowley’s is like expensive whiskey over a crackling fire.

Gabriel scoffs, “Whatever.” He leans over and takes a tiny cupcake from Missouri’s plate and says with his mouth full, “Hey, Dean-o. How’s it going with Masters?”

Missouri exhales through her nose and says, “They haven’t spoken in weeks, what with the runway show coming up next week.” She pats Dean’s shoulder in a way of comfort and it does work, even for a little bit. She has a very calm air around her and her voice is gentle and like birdsong that Dean hears when he wakes up in the morning.

“I don’t know what she wants me to say,” Dean grumbles. “I said sorry and the event managers won’t cancel her off the guest list.”

“Sometimes, it’s best to let things run its course, boy,” Missouri suggests. “Meg may be known to carry a grudge to the ends of the earth, but even she gets tired of dodging people in the hallways.”

“That’s true,” Crowley agrees. “One time, Kevin gave her the wrong fabric for her piece which ruined it completely and after three months, she couldn’t bother with avoiding him anymore.”

Dean decides to take their advice and wait it out. It’s not like he can do much more other than make sure the show is a success so it didn’t feel as much of a disappointment to her. The least he can do is put on a good runway in her honour. He’s already apologized. Even Pax and Sam agreed that Dean’s done what he can. Cas remains on neutral ground — he has to, as their boss, but he tells Dean one night that he’ll try to talk Meg round.

He can't help the guilt that eats at him for taking the job even if Meg couldn't have made it, to begin with.

Pax is unavailable for dinner apparently and Dean marvels at the fact that Pax won’t cancel on his friends for his boyfriend. He has a feeling they’re both well aware that they have an expiration date. Pax probably assumed Dean was going to break up with him over dinner, which can’t be further from the truth, but Dean thinks the break up is becoming a little inevitable. Pax can't run forever.

He doesn’t want the reservation to go to waste — Cas wanted to do something nice so if Pax isn’t going to come with him then he’ll just bring the man who booked the dinner.

When it’s close to 7 and Inias leaves Cas’s office again — _seriously, when did these two start talking? —_ Dean leans forward on his desk and notes, “You’re free tonight."

“I am,” Cas replies. “And I remember telling you you could go home early if you wanted and that you have a reservation to make in an hour but you’re still here.”

“Yeah, because Pax can’t make it and I wanted to stay here. I like work,” Dean shrugs, standing. Cas puts on his coat and looks over at him, raising an eyebrow, and Dean smiles lopsidedly. “Will you go with me to dinner instead?”

“Me?” Cas asks, frowning in disbelief.

Dean rolls his eyes, dramatically saying, “Well, you know, I did ask Gabe but he wasn’t free, so I thought I’d ask you after I invited Charlie, Kevin, Rowena, Pam, Missouri, Balthazar, Crowley... Hell, even _Zeddmore_ from admin —"

“Okay, I get it,” Cas cuts over, smiling. "I'll go with you."

“Awesome,” Dean beams, standing and straightening his jacket. “This is gonna be a good date.”

“Date?” Cas echoes, cocking his head as he narrows his eyes.

Dean shrugs, tries to play it off, “You know, you reserved this dinner as a date for me and Pax, right? So since you’re coming instead of him, then it’s a date for you and me.”

“Yeah,” Cas says, unsure. “Will Pax be alright with this?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Dean questions. Cas doesn’t have an answer.

Over dinner, Cas promises that he won’t act like Dean’s boss. He actually said he was genuinely trying to be better for Dean, and that he’s starting with not running from anything emotional. That said, he opens the evening with, “The people at the orphanage thought I was a weird child.”

Dean raises an eyebrow and one side of his mouth tilts up in a smile. “Why?”

“I was a ten-year-old who sewed newspapers into dresses even though the needles kept pricking my fingers and I was obsessed with a sippy straw water bottle. I almost always destroyed my homework for school and I was the only kid who didn’t want to leave. You tell me,” Cas says, trying to sound as casual and joking as possible. He knew he was too serious most times and Gabriel has told him more than enough times that it can be quite the downer.

Dean grins, amused and fond, and replies, “If you ask me, that’s a pretty cool kid.”

“What were you like?” Cas asks. “As a kid, I mean.”

Dean leans back into his seat and wipes sauce off of his lip, and while he notices Cas’s eyes tracking the movement, he doesn’t show it. He pouts in exaggerated thoughtfulness and says, “I put tuna in the curtains of this guy that broke Jo’s heart so his house would smell like shit for weeks, I drew a dick on the whiteboard with a glue stick and I brought pizza to eat in class. You can tell what kind of asshole kid I was.”

“Was?” Cas echoes and Dean feels his face split into a slow-starting smile.

“Oh, is it like that?” Dean asks, grinning.

“Maybe it is,” Cas returns a teasing grin of his own. It feels good to joke like this with each other.

Dean’s face falls into faux-offence. “I’ll have you know I’m an awesome person.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Dean affirms, nodding all child-like and petty. It’s endearing and Cas smiles faintly at it. Dean lists, lifting a finger to count them off one by one, “When he was 15, Sam didn’t know what to get Jess for their first Christmas together so I taught him how to remake this tweed and ecru Chanel dress she really liked. One Christmas, it was so cold and the heater wasn’t working so I stayed up all night and fixed Bobby’s old one.”

Cas can’t help the smile that grows on his face, “Are you going to keep going?”

“If I have to!” Dean answers, raising his eyebrows.

Cas replies, “You don’t have to, you’ve convinced me. You’re a good man, Dean Winchester.” That leaves a smile so wide on Dean that Cas tries not to let it get to him.

Dean tries to get some stories of Cas being a good person out of him so he can hype him up, be his “personal hype man” as he says, but Dean can’t get much more than a reluctant retelling about how the orphanage was low on funds one year and didn’t have enough winter wear for the kids, so he, Gabriel and Anna went out and bought materials for Cas to make coats and blankets to keep the younger kids warm. They never asked for anything in return, but they took the mugs of hot cocoa that the adults offered them. Cas took the remaining materials to make as many gloves and beanies as he can and went out alone into the cold winter to sell them. He brought about 30 bucks back to the orphanage and they bought him a cheap coat because his fingers had turned blue.

Cas doesn’t think he’s any good, but Dean thinks he’s amazing.

Dinner passes fairly quick with childhood stories and funny anecdotes and soon they’re stumbling through the warm evening, laughing with each other about the time Dean was trying to woo the new boy in town, Lee Webb, and he didn’t know how to woo boys at the time so he tried surprising him at the fast-food joint he worked part-time at, only to get instantly tackled to the ground with Lee shouting at him that he’ll call the cops. Cas can't believe that Lee agreed to a date after that.

"I don't know who's more insane," Cas laughs. "You or Lee."

"I think that's why we worked so well," Dean ponders with a smile, bumping Cas's shoulder with his own.

Cas asks, "If you worked so well then why did you break up? If you're okay with telling me."

Dean waves him off, indicating that it's fine to ask, and answers, "I don't know, man. I think we just got distant."

Cas nods slowly, saying, "That happened with Anna once, and her ex-boyfriend."

"What about you?"

"Never happened to me," Cas replies. "I've only had two boyfriends, one you already know of and the other who left me because I chose cigarettes over him."

Dean says, "You really shouldn't smoke too much, though."

Cas gives him a pointed stare. "Don't you smoke too?"

"Yeah, but I rarely do it, you smoke like it's your second job. I just don't want you to get sick or anything, you know?" Dean says, a little sheepish. "But it's your life, your choice. You wanna keep smoking, I won't stop you."

Cas ponders over this and comes up with, "Will it make you happy if I quit?"

"It would but it'd make me feel better if you at least didn't smoke so much," Dean answers.

"Then I'll quit," Cas says, in a way that sounds like he's trying to promise himself. "Or, at least, I'll try."

Dean feels something happy and fizzy all over for the rest of the night.

When the summer runway show comes round, Cas finds ways to keep his mind off of smoking. He gets other ways of distraction and finds that chewing gum keeps him occupied. It helps that Dean himself promised to cut off smoking completely too.

Dean has dedicated every moment of each day when he's not running Cas's errands to planning the runway to perfection. Cas assured him that the "disappoint me and you're fired" was just in the heat of the moment and he didn't mean it — it's his first runway and Cas isn't pressuring him to deliver a golden standard, he just wants an enjoyable show. Despite that, Dean still wanted to do his best for Cas. If he's trying to stop smoking, then Dean wants to make sure his stress is as low as possible just to make quitting easier on him.

Gabriel and Bess help him with designing the runway set and sometimes Balthazar will be there to point out anything that may be wrong. Dean and Balthazar style the models with the most suitable outfits and Gadreel had already taken the studio photographs of the models in their outfits so it can be posted onto the NOVAK site for people to view and shop from the looks. Plus, after Dean collected the printed photos, he and Bess organized them onto a board with thumbtacks to decide the order in which they go out onto the runway. Cas checks in on the progress when he isn't busy with starting on Emmy Awards outfits designs and he seems largely impressed with what they have so far, which makes Dean really happy.

Sam, Eileen, Ellen, Bobby, and Jo come down from Stanford and Sioux Falls to watch Dean's runway. When Jo sees him, she brings him into her biggest hug which is incredible because of how small she is compared to Dean's tall self.

"Your first runway! I'm so proud of you," Jo says excitedly, pulling away from him.

He grins, ruffling her blonde hair, "It's not exactly _mine_ , but thank you."

"Nonsense, boy. It's still your work," Bobby insists, looking around the hall. Cas had planned the runway in an event space in Midtown Manhattan on 7th avenue, so to make it easier on himself and give him more preparation time, he sent one of Cas's cars to pick up Sam, Eileen, Ellen, Bobby, and Jo when they arrived. It's big enough to seat 150 people, or 180 if they were really packing them in. There's Dean's family, Cas himself, some NOVAK employees, other designers like Bela, fashion writers like Chuck Shurley, photographers like Gadreel, and various other fashion-inclined guests.

Sam and Eileen arrive soon after and give him a hug and their own congratulations and that's when Cas comes over. It's the first time Dean is seeing him today; Dean went to the venue straight away instead of going there from work with Cas. Cas is dressed in full NOVAK wear: Matching classic fit silk jersey shirt, pants, and tie, with a soft fawn blazer detail cotton twill reconstructed trench coat. Dean himself is in a NOVAK outfit too, specially styled by Cas a week prior to the event; Dean wears leather oxford brogues, a classic cut cotton tie, a charcoal grey wool tailored trousers with belt detail, pale blue cotton poplin shirt with logo tape. Over that, he wears a wool tailored jacket with cargo belt detail under a reversible striped technical linen field jacket.

"Thanks for coming," Cas says to them. He hugs Sam and Eileen to say hello, and Jo pulls him into one that he can't squirm his way out of. Ellen and Bobby settle for professional handshakes, and Dean shows them to their seats, promising to bring them backstage after the show to get a better look at Cas's creations. 

“Where’s that lucky guy, Pax?” Jo asks, squinting as she looks through the crowd.

Dean answers, “He got held up for a photoshoot for Gucci, he couldn’t make it.”

Sam nods absently, asking, “Dean, can I talk to you?” Dean follows him a few feet away from Eileen, Jo, Ellen, and Bobby, and Sam starts, “I feel so bad.”

“Sam, we’ve been over this. It’s fine, I’m over it, just don’t do it again,” Dean assures.

Sam nods again, unsure, and says, “Okay, I promise I won’t.” He changes the subject, “How do you feel about Pax not being here?”

“I... don’t really care,” Dean shrugs. “You know, I’ve got everyone I need right here. You guys, Cas, my friends. I’m set.”

Sam gives him that look — the same look he gave Dean when he said he was fine when he and Benny Lafitte broke up when he was 24, that look that says he’s covering something up. “You don’t really like Pax all that much, do you?”

“No,” Dean finally admits. He was just afraid of being alone.

Dean doesn’t see Cas again until five minutes before the show starts. Dean has the models queued up while Gabriel and his cosmetics team do final touch-ups to their makeup and he, Bess, and Balthazar make sure the outfits look as perfect as possible.

“How is it?” Cas asks, coming up behind Dean who settles at the control panel.

Dean puts on the headset and smiles at him, “I’m feeling pretty good.”

Cas puts his hand on Dean’s back and gives him an affirming nod, “You worked hard on this, I’m proud of you.”

Dean grins and pats Cas’s hand once with his own before he turns on the headset, readying the runway animations. He speaks into the headset, doing a final check on all equipment and making sure every model and outfit is accounted for in the line-up.

Cas gives a short speech about the summer collection before he goes backstage, giving Dean a thumbs up from the other end. The music starts to boom through the event hall and Dean counts down from three to the first model walking out.

The runway passes much quicker than Dean thought it would feel, but it’s exhilarating the whole time. No matter how many or how few models were left waiting for their turn to walk down the runway, Dean was just as excited to see them walk out. After the last model comes back behind the stage, all the models walk out and line up in a row on the runway. Cas comes out after them, beaming as the audience claps for his collection. He bows once in silent thanks and as the tradition, holds hands with the last model, Anna, as they all disappear backstage as the runway music comes to an end.

Dean exits the stage and finds Sam and the others in their seats. They’re all smiling and Bobby throws an arm around his shoulder just as Ellen praises, “That was such a good show, Dean. And you know I’m not the fashion type.”

“Thanks, Ellen,” Dean beams. “If you’re ready, I can take you guys backstage now.”

Eileen and Jo pair off to look at the outfits together and Ellen and Bobby decide to get some éclairs and champagne from the snack table. Sam and Dean find Cas talking to an enthusiastic Bela and smiling Crowley. Bela spots them first and waves, “Hello, Deanna!”

Cas turns to look at them and smiles as Bela gushes, “That was such a fantastic show, truly. Especially for a novice! Well done. I ought to poach you from Cassandra here.”

“You can pry him from my cold, dead hands,” Cas jokes. “But yes, excellent show, Dean.” Dean thanks them and notices Sam talking to Gadreel, a camera looped around his neck. Cas seems to see them at the same time and sends Dean a shrug. Bela decides to bring Eileen and Jo to meet Anna, and Crowley finds himself some company with a writer from Bullet magazine.

Sam comes back a few minutes later to Dean and Cas, his statement sounding more like a question, “That Gadreel guy just asked me out.”

“What’d you say?” Dean asks.

Sam shrugs, frowning, “I said no but he kept asking. I told him I was coming here to get us drinks but I have no idea what to do with this guy. I told him I was taken and that I don’t like guys that way, you know? But here I am.”

“I’ll fire him tomorrow,” Cas says easily. “I don’t want that kind of employee.”

“Oh, you don’t have to fire him, it’s fine,” Sam quickly says. “I don’t want to ruin his career over this.”

Cas replies, “This isn’t his first time being questionably insistent. The first time, I gave him a warning. Twice is more than there should be. Maybe I’ll send him off to some morally-compromising designer. Dick Roman or Morningstar. Maybe Chuck Shurley. Thank you for bringing this to me.”

“No problem,” Sam says, a little nervous as he glances Gadreel’s way. He’s busy talking to Naomi Intel, the creative director from Marie Claire magazine that Dean met once to collect jackets from. He realizes belatedly that Dean has disappeared from his side, already going off to talk to Gadreel. “Oh, man. I should go stop him.”

“Let him be,” Cas says, watching as Dean’s words are lost to the commotion, but Gadreel’s remorseful expression is enough. 

When he comes back, Sam says flatly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, that? Nah, I just didn’t like the guy,” Dean says breezily. “Anyone want champagne? I’ll go get us some.”

When it’s late and Cas wants to go back to the office to pick up some folders before going home, Dean offers to go with him. He tells his family that they can go to his apartment if they want as Sam has a spare key, but if they’re too tired and want to go back to the hotel, Dean will see them off at the airport tomorrow. Everyone is agreeable with the plan and they go their separate ways. The private car was already taken by Gabriel and Balthazar apparently, so Dean calls for a cab.

They both drank more champagne than they should, and the cab driver is a little hesitant to pick them up like this but decides that he’s probably not getting any other business at this late an hour. Possibly also because Cas offers to pay ten times his rate.

They fall over one another trying to get into the cab and when the door shuts behind them and the cab starts moving, they laugh quietly, out of it.

“That was a great show,” Cas says, grinning wider than Dean has ever seen.

Dean tips over a little too much and his hand catches onto Cas’s cobalt tie, his smile is too tipsy for it to be professional and friendly, and his voice is ecstasy, “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas’s fingers find themselves at the nape of Dean’s neck, tangling with the short hair there. Dean’s grip on the tie loosens it from around Cas’s neck and pulls him closer. Cas is way too drunk to have any sort of steadiness and when the car turns left, Cas tips right over and his forehead bumps against Dean’s. He laughs, something bubbly and quiet, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be —“ Dean barely says before he tilts into Cas’s side when the car makes another turn. Dean giggles — _giggles_ , for Christ’s sake — and finishes, “Don’t be sorry. Happens to the best of us.”

Dean hiccups particularly loudly and Cas bursts out laughing as if it’s the funniest thing he has ever heard, and it’s ridiculous because it’s just a hiccup, but Cas might be the cutest person Dean has ever met, laughing over a fucking _hiccup_. His laugh is drunken but it is sweet and sounds like champagne, and Dean wants to kiss him so badly —

“God, Dean,” Cas murmurs, his face so close to Dean’s that he can feel his breath on his lips. A faint memory is hazy in his mind of when they talked about Pax, but Dean is so focussed on Cas’s gravel voice and close proximity that his brain doesn’t even fucking remember who the hell Pax is supposed to be. “I wish...”

“You wish what?” Dean asks. Cas’s eyes look dark in the dimness of the car and his eyelashes somehow look golden at the ends when the streetlights meet them through the window even though Dean knows his hair is black. Dean’s tongue pokes out to wet his lips, suddenly conscious of how dry his mouth has gone.

“I wish I could,” Cas says, but it sounds like that’s all there is to the sentence. 

Before Dean’s brain can process anything else, his body takes over and his fingertips skirt Cas’s jaw; slow, making sure it’s okay, and when Cas’s eyes slide shut, Dean leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips, light and fleeting. Drunken haze brings Cas’s hands forward to cradle Dean’s face and pull him back in. Dean presses back into Cas, opens his mouth over his and kisses him breathless.

The driver suddenly knocks on the partition and says, voice muffled, “We’re here.”

Dean and Cas break away from one another, hands still clinging to each other’s clothes. Cas’s hair sticks up where Dean’s hands have pushed against it and a warm blush settles over the apple of his cheeks. He can’t tell if it was from the kiss or the alcohol, but he looks stunning.

Cas is the first to move, leaning away and straightening his hair with his palm as he opens the partition, holding out cab fare. “Thank you, have a good night.” Thank God for a partition in the cab, Dean doesn’t think his mind is stable enough to even deal with the cab driver stealing glances. Cas would probably lose his mind too. The two of them carry each other out of the cab, semi-stable, and Dean blows a humorous kiss to the driver in the rearview mirror as the cab disappears into the night.

Cas looks up at the sky, breathes in the cool evening air, and says, dazed, “Dean.”

Dean chuckles again, and his fingers graze Cas’s knuckles when he reaches out to steady him. “Yeah?”

Cas looks over at him and his eyes widen as if seeing him for the first time that night. “Holy shit, you look so good wearing me.”

That sends Dean into a fit of laughter, looking down at his NOVAK fit as his hands trail up Cas’s sleeve, pulling him closer. “Yeah, I know.”

Something in Dean’s chest twists and aches, looking at Cas like this, with blush colouring his cheeks like roses and his eyes like lightning captured with glass. And Cas is like lightning striking Dean over and over, and Dean is addicted to the way it feels.

Cas’s mouth tilts up into a small, crooked grin, bright in the dark of night, and Dean wonders what his life was like before he ever saw this smile.


	8. tu veux sortir avec moi?

_The things that you can’t really foresee and that kind of surprise you, and a lot of times they are bad, but other times, they bring something different and new to the table._  
**Alexander Wang**

Dean broke up with Pax last week and the day after, Pax gave Thaddeus from admin his one-week notice, which means today is officially the first day Pax will be gone from NOVAK. He quit for a higher-paying job modelling for The Business of Fashion magazine and he assured Dean that their break-up is not the reason and that he would have quit anyway. He does tell Dean that he’s not oblivious to the way he acts and he hopes Cas was worth it.

The thing about Cas is that Dean still hasn’t talked to him about that kiss in the cab. It’s not that he’s consciously avoiding the conversation — in fact, Dean wants to talk about his feelings for once in his emotionally-stunted Winchester life. The problem is that Dean isn’t sure if Cas remembers the kiss in his inebriated stupor or if he even wanted to kiss Dean. It could be the champagne making him do it for all Dean knows. Cas hasn’t said anything about it either so Dean doesn’t want to make things awkward by talking about something that he might be regretting.

Dean stays quiet about it. It’s either that or talk to Cas and Dean is just not experienced enough in the talking department to do it. It’s always been so easy; he’d whisper sweet nothings and then it’s a pull of a hand into bed. With Cas, Dean is careful. Cas is different; he’s like navigating fashion, almost. One wrong accessory, one step too far, and the whole outfit will be ruined. 

He can’t even talk to Sam about it either because while Sam would know Cas well enough to offer sound advice, he still doesn’t know Cas is gay and Dean is not gonna be the one to out him so Sam, and everyone else, is a moot point. He could just not mention the name and ask but Sam and a couple of his friends already know that the only person Dean remotely likes at the moment is Cas which makes it impossible to confide in any of them without implicating Cas. Dean’s on his own with this one. Unless he asked Rowena since she found out when Lucian wrote the article. Rowena has to be trustworthy enough.

Cas is coming in late for work today which means Dean will be relatively free until he arrives. Dean’s thinking about how to get Rowena in time to bring her for lunch, but then Charlie ambushes him with, “There’s this girl I have a crush on but I don’t know how to ask her out.”

“Who?” Dean asks, letting Charlie hook her arm around Dean’s as they walk to the cafeteria.

“Dorothy Baum, she’s a retail store manager for Bvlgari. She used to be the marketing director from Oz Magazine,” Charlie answers. “She’s really hot.”

“Charlie, _every_ woman is hot to you,” Dean grins, earning a slap on the arm.

Charlie frowns, “I’m serious! She gets me all nervous and I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, if I help you with Dorothy, will you help me?” Dean asks.

Charlie’s eyes widen and a grin splits across her cheery face, “Dean! You have a date?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Dean chuckles, patting Charlie’s hand over his elbow. “We’ll get you a date with Dorothy and then we’ll see.”

“Her branch isn’t too far from here. If you’re free, we can go right now,” Charlie says, her voice tilting up at the end to ask if he was free.

Dean nods, “Cas isn’t coming in till later in the afternoon. Let’s go.”

It takes the next twenty minutes to get to the Bvlgari outlet and by then, Charlie is a nervous wreck about talking to Dorothy. When they enter, Charlie points out a brunette woman, her hair tied up in a neat bun, talking to a customer. “That’s her.”

“What’s our play? Am I gonna ask her out for you? Set it up, what?” Dean asks, borderline excited. It’s been a while since he was someone’s wingman.

“Wingman for me, please,” Charlie practically begs, pushing him forward slightly and finding an interest in a row of golden rings.

Dean grins and walks over to Dorothy, just freed up by the other customer, and says, “Hey, I need your help. You’ve gotta know your rings well.”

She smiles at him, wide and sweet, and Dean understands why Charlie thinks she’s beautiful. She replies, “I do. What do you need help with?”

He pretends to read her name tag and says, “You see, Dorothy, I want to buy a ring for my boyfriend but I’ve got no idea what kind of ring would suit him. I was thinking about something gold with a little silver. Or maybe something completely black? I don’t know.”

Dorothy nods, gesturing around the shop, “I’m sure we can find you something. Come with me.”

Dean follows her and Charlie watches from over the catalogue in her hands. He winks at her and turns back to Dorothy, saying, “Rings aren’t my area, you know. I never know what ring goes well with what hand. My friend Charlie over there, she’s a godsend. Don’t know how I’d dress if she doesn’t pick my wardrobe.”

Dorothy’s grin is charmed when she glances at Charlie, who quickly hides behind the catalogue. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, she’s like a lucky charm. Swear it doesn’t get better than her,” Dean goes on. “Oh hey, I should introduce you. Charlie, come over here.” Charlie puts down the catalogue and walks over, visibly trying not to look nervous. “Charlie, this is Dorothy. Dorothy, Charlie.” Yes, Charlie knows who she is, but it doesn’t hurt.

“Hi,” Charlie practically squeaks, and Dorothy laughs.

Dorothy helps Dean pick out a ring (a not-so-expensive one that he ends up buying for himself to wear) while she talks to Charlie, and by the time Dean’s credit card is getting charged, Dorothy’s phone number makes it into Charlie’s contacts. Charlie pulls Dean into an excited hug once they’re out of Bvlgari.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Charlie gushes. “I knew I loved you.”

“Yes, you love me because I’m your wingman,” Dean rolls his eyes fondly. “Now will you help me?”

“Of course, lay it on me,” Charlie nods as they start making their way back to NOVAK.

“Okay, first of all, promise me you won’t ask me who this guy is,” Dean says. Dean can’t remember ever telling Charlie that he has a crush on Cas — which is bewildering since she’s his best friend in the company — but he figures it’s worth the shot.

She mimes a zipper across her lips and promises, “My lips are sealed.”

Dean nods once to himself and explains, “This guy and I kissed, right, but —“

Charlie cuts over, “Oh my God, did you _do it_?”

Dean shoots her a fake annoyed look, “Just a kiss, nothing more, you dirty bastard.” Charlie gives him a shit-eating grin and Dean continues, shaking his head, “We were both a little tipsy and then it kind of happened. I don’t know if I should ask him about it because maybe he regrets it or he doesn’t even remember it.”

She turns to him and taps the point of his nose with a perfectly manicured finger. “You worry too much. I say you should buy him a nice dinner and take him out. Even better, you could cook something. I remember your pasta was really good, you can cook him dinner, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods slowly.

Charlie beams, taking one of Dean’s hands in her own and patting it once as she says, “Let me tell you, this one time when Kevin met this girl he liked, he made her dinner and things went on from there. You know what they say, drunken words are sober thoughts. Or in this case, drunken kisses.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see if he’s free, maybe I’ll invite him over for dinner,” Dean nods once to himself resolutely. He’ll just make Cas some of his pasta and let the evening progress from there. Maybe he’ll ask him about the cab kiss, maybe he won’t. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“Of course, Dean,” she smiles, sweet and full of pride. “You let me know if you need help with anything.”

When Cas enters the office for the first time that day, he’s dressed in full Fendi wear; A slim-fit gabardine blazer with asymmetric collars and flap pockets. Half of it is black and the other half is brown cavalry twill. He wears a white patterned silk shirt underneath and matching brown pants. Dean himself is in Vivienne Westwood. He bought more, just because Cas likes it when he wears Westwood. This has got to be a new level of whipped for Dean, he’s expanding his closet for the guy. Not that he wouldn’t do it anyway, but buying a brand specifically for him.

“Nice Westwood,” Cas says, putting down his coffee on Dean’s table. No matter how many times Cas has bought him coffee, it still warmed Dean’s heart when he drinks it.

“I’ve never seen you wear Fendi before,” Dean remarks, looking him up and down. “Suits you.” If he’s going to invite him over for dinner then he might as well try to ease into it with a little flirting.

“Dean.” Cas smiles but it is reserved, and Dean thinks he might have pushed his luck until he says, “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

Before Dean can press about it, two men walk into the office; the taller one of them has dark hair and green eyes and the other is blonde, young blue eyes, and an awkward smile. The taller one is dressed in a plain white shirt, a black bomber jacket, and basic dark blue jeans while the blonde man is in flannel and denim. Obviously not from the fashion industry and Dean doesn’t know them, so he can’t imagine what they would possibly want to meet him for —

“Hi, this is Michael, and I’m Adam Winchester,” the blonde one says, and Dean feels it like a punch to his gut. “Or Milligan, I go by that, mostly... I’m your half-brother, your father got together with my mom? I should have come and found you guys sooner, but I didn’t know how to say it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, feeling like the air has left his chest.

Cas explains, “I was on a business meeting at Lenox Hill and I ran into them at the coffee shop when I was buying some for you. Michael knew who I was and Adam asked if he could come with me to talk to you. It's not the most professional choice but I didn't know if they could find you again. I thought you should have the choice of talking to them.” He gives them all a glance, his gaze lingering on Dean a second longer, and says, “I’ll give you some privacy, you may use my office to talk if you have to. I’ll go check in with Kevin.”

“Can you stay?” Dean asks tentatively. Cas gives him a long look over his shoulder like he’s asking him if he’s sure. Dean knows asking him to stay is a long shot since this is a family matter but he wants him there as a friend. Cas relents and hangs back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning on Dean’s desk. Dean clears his throat and stands, “If I knew you were dropping by, I would have asked Sam to come.”

Adam waves him away, “ No, it’s fine. We didn’t plan on it, just saw Castiel and Michael said something about a Dean Winchester being his personal assistant.”

“Who’s Michael anyway?” Dean asks, pointing a thumb to Michael.

Cas fills in before Michael can, “Michael Shurley. His father Chuck is the creative director of Heaven magazine.”

Michael nods, glancing over at Adam. “And I’m his boyfriend.”

“Okay,” Dean says slowly, unsure. He looks at Adam. “Does Dad know?”

“No,” Adam replies. “Didn’t know how he would take it and he spends more time at his job than with us, so I never found the right time to tell him.” He looks down at his feet, shifty, and then glances back up at Dean, “Dad said he talked to you guys, that’s why I thought I should find you.”

“Would say I tried to find you too but Dad never told us your name,” Dean replies, his apology plastic and see-through. Michael and Cas both stand quietly, staying out of the conversation. “All he said was that he was visiting his other son at Lenox Hill Hospital.”

“We’re both surgeons there, we went to medical school together,” Adam provides some backstory. Dean blinks — medical school isn’t cheap, especially for people who were from a different state. It’s probably equivalent to the amount Bobby paid for Dean to go to fashion school and Sam for law school.

Dean asks, and he hates the way his voice is quiet, “Dad paid for it?”

“Yeah,” Adam replies hesitantly. It’s almost as if he knew the answer would hurt Dean. “Mom was out of work at the time so Dad picked up the slack, pooled enough money to ship me off to Wisconsin Uni. Didn’t he pay for you?”

“He’d need to actually be around to pay for it,” Dean says. He didn’t mean for it to come off to snippily but he sometimes has a problem with holding back his emotions. Specifically, anger, and he was pissed at John. His brain knows that Adam didn’t choose for John to stay, or to be born to John, or to have John pay for his education, but Dean is bitter and it is unrelenting in his chest. Adam looks uncomfortable and Dean almost feels apologetic. _Almost_.

Michael finally cuts in, saying, “Don’t blame him.”

“I’m not blaming him,” Dean says, frustrated. “I just don’t get it.”

“That’s why I’m here, I wanted to talk with you, get stuff out in the open. Meet my brothers,” Adam says, picking up on the thread Michael has left. “You can ask me anything.”

“Okay, then tell me why he stayed for you but he never came home for me and Sam?” Dean asks, unable to hold it back. Reasonably, he knows it was out of Adam’s hands and probably his understanding as well but impulsively, Dean points the blame at whoever is on the other side of the finger and it just so happens to be Adam. He is suddenly acutely aware of everything, the quiet anxious tap of Adam’s fingers on his thigh, the solemnity of Michael’s eyes and the fact that Cas is right next to him, his warmth radiating off of his body onto Dean’s skin. Heat rises in Dean’s neck that spreads to his chest, and shaking makes itself present in his hands. He’s not ready to talk to Adam Winchester — or Milligan — but he can’t ask him to come back some other time now that he’s in front of him.

Adam looks guilty but he does offer Dean, “I don’t know, but if it makes it better in any way, if I had a choice, I’d want him to go back to you two.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael says quietly.

“You know how many nights I heard Sam praying to God or anyone who would help, asking for his dad back?” Dean snaps. Adam winces but says nothing. Dean can feel Cas’s stare boring into him from his side but he doesn’t show it. “ _Every_ night. He wanted Dad to come home, and he had a list and everything, you know, of what he wanted to do with Dad when he got reunited with him. It’s got shit like learn how to drive or how to ride a bike and all that because he doesn’t have a single memory with him. He was too young to remember anything when Dad left us. We thought he wouldn’t do this to us willingly. We thought the worst, that maybe he died.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Adam says weakly; he knows it doesn’t help.

“I’m his _son_ but I had to be Sam’s dad all because he liked _you_ better,” Dean says and he despises how venomous it sounds. It’s ironic, then, when Dean thinks about how he thought today was going to be good. More spite threatens to spill out of Dean’s mouth until Cas’s hand touches his arm, gentle and grounding, and Dean’s breath catches in his throat. Anger edges haltingly at him when Cas’s eyes meet his.

Michael says, “Maybe we should come to see you another time when you’re in a better frame of mind.”

“Yeah,” Dean says dryly. Adam takes a post-it from Dean’s desk and scribbles on it, passing it to Dean.

“My number so we don't have to drop in like this again. Call me, text me, whatever. Any time you want, I'll answer right away,” Adam says, trying to convey every bit of sincerity through his eyes. “I really am sorry, Dean. I’ll talk to Dad if you want. And I'm sorry for doing this here, I just didn't know if I'd get another chance to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” Dean repeats absently, reading the digits over and over again in his head. Cas walks them to the elevator and a minute later, he’s back at Dean’s side.

When Cas speaks, it’s soft and not as gravelly as Dean is used to hearing. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Dean says. Cas presses a hand to Dean’s and it’s enough.

Dean doesn’t have the mood to invite Cas for dinner after talking to Adam, and he puts it off until the end of the week. By then, Charlie has had her first date with Dorothy Baum and is already gunning for a second and according to Gabriel, Kevin might have a cute coffee date with a guy who works in the bakery across the street from them. Rowena has some escapade with someone that Dean wants to hear nothing about and it’s almost like everyone has been paired off with someone except him.

Charlie is appalled to hear that Dean hasn’t invited his “new husband” to that dinner and insists that he ask him today. She even offers him her Chanel No. 5 Eau de Parfum Spray perfume to wear but he decides to go with Balthazar’s Hugo Energise Cologne by Hugo Boss. Charlie sends him away with a good luck kiss on his cheek and Balthazar says he owes him for the little bit of cologne he used. Charlie actually offers to lend him her lucky Max Mara cotton crêpe trench coat but Dean says it’s okay.

Dean has Cas’s coffee waiting when Cas walks into the office, Dean’s coffee in his own hand. They exchange coffee and like clockwork, Cas says, jokingly wistful, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in Westwood, Dean. I’m beginning to miss the sight.” Dean’s in Burberry, a complete look he took from the storage closet (thank God it’s got new items every day — with the amount of clothes Dean has taken from it, he worried that he’s taking too much — a black gabardine field jacket with a velvet trim wool jacket and tie detail poplin shirt underneath, paired with tailored trousers, leather Oxford brogues, and a classic cut silk satin tie.

“What about you, Cas? Prada coat at the wash?” Dean replies, looking him up and down. He’s in a Michael Kors black leather Moto jacket, a black t-shirt with white horizontal stripes and white twill trousers, both of which probably came cheap from H&M or something, plus black Oxfords by what Dean thinks is Manolo Blahnik. Dean’s never seen Cas dressed so edgy but it looks so sexy on him.

“I’ll wear it tomorrow, happy?” Cas grins, entertained.

Dean blurts out, “Do you want to come over for dinner?”

Cas blinks, smile freezing slightly since he got caught off-guard, but it eases up when he clarifies, “Tonight?”

“If you want. I make a mean bowl of pasta,” Dean says, hoping and hoping that Cas says yes, otherwise this is going to be one of his most embarrassing work experiences. “You can dress down, it’s just a casual thing. You don’t even have to say yes —"

“Yes,” Cas nods, a small smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

“Yes?”

“ _Yes_ , I’ll come over for dinner,” Cas chuckles, running a hand over the surface of Dean’s desk. “I’ll go home to switch into something less high fashion and you can text me your address. I’ll be there at 8, is that alright?”

Dean beams, bright and sunny, and says, “More than alright. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

The day, thankfully, remains relatively empty since most designers are too busy adding finishing touches to Emmy Award orders to have many errands left to run. Cas leaves a little earlier to get a change of clothes after a day at work and Dean goes home after him.

He takes a quick shower after texting Cas his address and changes into a mint and black tartan-patterned army shirt by Vivienne Westwood. It’s almost like his cheap flannel shirts but on the off chance Cas qualifies this as a date, he doesn’t want to underdress. He’s sure Cas doesn’t own anything remotely not branded. He pairs it with plain black sweatpants from American Apparel. He gets started on the pasta, trying to make it as fast as possible while retaining as much as the quality. Cas texted back that he was on his way so Dean has about half an hour unless Cas doesn’t mind if the pasta isn’t ready by the time he arrives.

Dean sings Led Zeppelin to himself and he may be a little out of tune but nobody’s around to hear and he likes it. He dances a little around the kitchen as he cooks. It’s been weeks since he had time to properly cook like this so he was enjoying every second of it.

About five minutes after the pasta is ready and set out, there’s a knock on Dean’s door. He glances in the mirror, styling his hair as best as he can and flashing his most charming grin, opening the door. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas did dress down, in his own way — black Prada gabardine shirt with epaulettes and matching trousers. A simple pair of shoes he probably bought for cheap from Foot Locker, and a smile more expensive than any brand known to man. “Hello, Dean. May I come in?”

“Of course, yeah,” Dean says, stepping aside to make way for him. He can’t help but notice that Cas is wearing Prada, like how Dean wore Westwood. He wondered if it’s for the same reasons — Dean wore it because he knows Cas likes when he does. Did Cas wear Prada because he thought Dean liked him in the brand? The thought sends tingles up Dean’s spine, even though it seemed pretty mild in the wide scheme of things.

“It smells delicious,” Cas compliments, smelling the aroma from the pasta. “Do you cook often?”

“When I can. This job takes up a lot of my time so it’s pretty rare,” Dean chuckles, patting one of the chairs to indicate to Cas that it’s his. He moves to the other side of the dining table as Cas sits down. “Hope you like it. Sam and Jo say it’s the best thing I ever cook.”

When he takes a bite of Dean’s pasta, Cas’s eyes light up in a way Dean has seen specially reserved for food, which is unexplainably adorable to Dean even though everyone has that look when they eat something good. But just the way Cas’s diamond eyes flicker like lightning in a bottle, Dean lives for that.

“Sam and Jo aren’t wrong,” Cas says, and Dean laughs, and it is easy.

They talk about anything that comes to mind and it almost feels like a date. Almost, because Dean still can’t find an opening to allude to their kiss after the runway show, but they are enjoying themselves over Italian dinner and they’re laughing. It feels nice. There is a moment where Cas gets tomato sauce on his nose somehow which he wipes off with his hand and he licks it off his thumb, and Dean has a fleeting want to kiss him but he stays at his side of the table.

Dean puts their dishes in the sink and assures Cas that he’ll wash them later, but Cas insists on cleaning so now they’re in the kitchen, squeezing by the basin as they try to wash their bowls of pasta sauce. There’s soap over their skin and Cas flicks water off his hands into Dean’s, so Dean retaliates like a grown man — he presses his wet hand to Cas’s face which makes him yelp. The sound is funny and it’s cute, and Dean can’t help but laugh. 

Cas laughs too, and Dean realizes Cas doesn’t snap straight to agitation when Dean wets his face with soap. He’s really trying.

“Stop it,” Cas chuckles, drying his face off with a paper towel before he pushes his other wet hand onto Dean’s neck. Dean recoils and bursts out laughing, shaking his head.

“Wouldn’t have thought you to be the type, _sir_ ,” Dean teases.

Cas smiles, wide and playful, and Dean can feel his heart in his throat. He wants so badly to ask Cas, to bring up the kiss and clear it up, but he doesn’t want to risk ruining the moment. Cas seems to notice the gears in Dean’s head moving and asks, “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, plastering a grin on his face. Cas gives him an unconvinced look but doesn’t press anymore, probably deciding to let Dean talk when he wants to. He replies with something else that’s not exactly a lie, “Thought about Adam.”

Cas straightens up slightly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I haven’t told Sam about meeting him yet, I wanted to decide what to do,” Dean says, crumpling the paper towel in his fist. He hates that the mood’s dampened but it’s either he tells Cas he’s still thinking about their drunk kiss or lie to him and Dean doesn’t want to lie to him. “I think I should call him.”

“You should do what you think is best,” Cas says. Dean’s thankful that Cas doesn’t seem bothered at all at the change in atmosphere. It might have felt uncomfortable with anyone else, but with Cas, it felt normal. “Whatever you do, I’ll be here for you. And I’m sure Sam will as well.”

With Cas’s support, Dean finds the will to call Adam to meet him for lunch at a café midway between where the NOVAK building is situated and Lenox Hill Hospital. Adam readily agrees and even says he’ll come without Michael. Adam is understanding, as Dean comes to realize. The moment he locates Dean in the café and sits down across from him, he says, “If you want to get it all out, do it. I won’t stop you.” It’s said with no hint of bitterness, and Dean jumps at the chance.

He rants about how he tried so hard for John but it amounted to nothing, and he talks about how he had to raise Sam on his own for a few years because back then, he was too young to process that Bobby and Ellen were now his legal guardians instead. He actually tears up a little when he tells Adam that he had so many sleepless nights because he thought John leaving was his fault and he worried that John was dead and he and Sam were all alone. By the time Dean runs out of things to be mad about, he feels emptier in a good way, and Adam reaches out to put a tentative hand on Dean’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I wish I knew,” Adam says sincerely. “If you would let me, I want to try and put this family back together... We owe it to you. Dad and I, I think. You know, maybe the next time Sam comes to New York, we three could get lunch together and talk. We could invite Dad too when you’re ready.”

Dean says, almost vacantly, “You’re nothing like Dad.”

“People do tell me I take after my mom,” Adam jokes. It warrants a small laugh from Dean. “Seriously. I don’t care if we just met last week. You know, you’re my brother now. Family means something.”

“You’re not so bad,” Dean manages to say. “Sorry for all that. I, uh... Don’t do well when I’m in that kind of. Thing.” His words are all detached and weird but Dean tries his best. "I shouldn't have snapped at you or Michael. I know it's not your fault, but..."

“It's okay. Thanks, Dean,” Adam smiles, young and light. He can see faint traces of John in his face, but it’s obvious that he doesn't take after him very much. “Listen, I have to start heading back to the hospital, I’ve got an operation in two hours to get to and I like to prepare ahead of time. I’ll call you sometime.” Dean wonders how a surgeon sleeps peacefully with all those lives in their hands; he wonders if Adam sleeps at all.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean nods absently, watching him stand. “Break a leg?”

“Were you a theatre kid?” Adam asks, amused.

“I helped some plays in school for extra cash,” Dean answers and Adam just smiles wider.

“Nice. Maybe we can catch a musical together, Michael loves those. I heard that _The Phantom Of The Opera_ ’s coming into town in a couple of months, I’ll check and let you know,” Adam says. “I’ll see you around, Dean. Thanks for meeting me.”

Dean nods again and after Adam finally leaves, Dean heads back to the NOVAK building. When he returns, Cas has his coffee order waiting for him and he doesn’t ask how it goes. Instead, he asks, “Are you ready for work?”

Dean smiles at Cas’s ability to just know if Dean wants to talk or not. “Yeah,” Dean says, and he means it.


	9. tournesol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a whole lot of talking about Dean and Cas's childhoods in this chapter and self-worth/self-loathing issues come up with both of them. Not sure if that warrants a TW, but leaving this note here anyway.
> 
> TW/ Vague mentions of alcohol addiction and homophobia for Cas, look out for the parts that mention Cas's childhood. Also a sentence about abuse in the first paragraph for Dean.

_Black and white might be sufficient. But why deprive yourself of color?_   
**Christian Dior**

Dean was 4 years old when Mary Winchester died. He was 5 when John started drinking. He was 6 and a half when John hit him and apologized the next morning. He was two days away from turning 7 when John ran away. He was 7 when he and Sam’s things got moved into the Harvelle-Singer residence. He was 8 when he cried at his birthday party.

Bobby tried his best but with a confused 3-year-old and a borderline unhinged 7-year-old, he didn’t know what to do. He relied on Ellen because she had always been better with handling baby Jo than he was. Jo and Dean were the same age which made Dean a little easier to handle. Sam was the real challenge. The only person who could get him to sleep was Dean, which means that Dean slept very little. Eventually, Sam would cry every time Dean wasn’t in the room and they had to move his bed into Dean’s room. It didn’t matter anyway, because Sam would crawl on his little hands and legs into Dean’s bed at some point of the night. Dean would be too tired to put him back in his own bed and he wouldn’t cry anyway, so why not?

Dean had John’s phone number on a folded note that he kept hidden in his pillowcase. He never told Bobby or Ellen about it. Every once in a while, when both Bobby and Ellen were out to do groceries or work, he’d use the landline and leave a voicemail for John, asking him when he’d come back. The first time, he’d actually gotten a reply back.

“I’m on a job right now but I’ll call you back.” Dean had been excited about it until the rest of the message played. “Leave a message after the tone.”

Dean never called again until the night he turned 8. When everyone was asleep, he called John. He just wanted to hear his father’s voice, if he couldn’t hear his mother’s, and the only thing he heard was, “ _Sorry, the number you have dialled has been disconnected_ —“ He hung up and broke down into tears when they brought out the birthday pie.

"I just want my dad," Dean had sobbed.

Sam was 6 when he asked Dean if Dad was going to come back. He lied to Sam for the first time and said he was on a job and that he will be back any day now. Sam was 8 when he asked again and Dean lied that John told him he’ll come back in a year. When Sam asked again when he was 9, he told him to _be patient and go do your homework_. When Sam asked on his 11th birthday and Dean lied once more, Sam screamed at him.

It was two days before Dean’s 16th birthday when Sam called him a liar. It was on the day itself when Sam told him he hated him.

Dean never faulted Sam for it. He thought the hate was warranted. He didn’t try to ask for forgiveness because he thought he didn’t deserve it. He told Sam it was alright when he cried and said he was sorry and that he could never hate him.

It didn’t mean Dean didn’t hate himself. He hated himself more than anything. He hated himself more than he hated his father for leaving them behind. After losing his mother and then his father, one by chance and one by will, Dean grew up with the notion that he simply didn't deserve to be loved and this was God's way of conveying the message. Well, Dean heard it loud and clear. He never needed to be told twice.

So, when Cas kissed him in the cab and for the first time, Dean kissed back with his heart fully there and his mind fully Cas’s, it surprised him, because it felt like it was right. It didn’t feel the way he kissed Cassie Robinson from fashion school like he was holding her back. Or the way it felt when he kissed Benny Lafitte from Chemistry like he wasn’t enough for him. Or when he kissed Lee Webb from South Dakota, like he was cheating him out of something better. No, when he kissed Cas, it felt like _yes, this is it_.

There is something about Cas that makes Dean forget the pain in his chest. Every time Cas’s diamond-like eyes look his way, when the sun’s rays light him up not unlike an angel, Dean has the wind knocked out of his body. When Cas is there, he is striking in many ways, and Dean is in awe of the way his own awful temper doesn’t spike as often when he’s with him. With Cas, Dean feels like every bit of wrathful anger built up from his childhood just drains away into a happy state of contentment. Dean spends so much time with Cas and with this peaceful mind that he can barely remember what life was like when he was so angry that he couldn’t get two sentences into an intimate conversation without exploding.

Cas is different. Cas is good. Cas is like a breath of fresh air after walking through thick fog. Dean likes him a lot.

He wants to talk to him, tell him all of this without faltering, pray the kiss meant as much to Cas as it did to him, but when he sees him, the words slip through his fingers and he is left speechless until his wit kicks in for some stupidly flirty comment about whatever brand he’s wearing that day.

Dean decided that Jo could give him some good advice on it — she was often willing to do things without asking for any context, for the sake of allowing privacy and Dean wonders why he hadn’t thought of consulting her in the first place. He tells her, Cas’s identity redacted, about what happened. She says the same thing as Charlie; fix him up a good dinner and ask him out, but after hearing that that fell through, she tells him to just tell him the next time they meet. “It will never be the right time, you will never be ready. So why not just go for it?”

She had a point.

Cas and Gabriel are away on personal business in London (Dean had been told he didn’t need to come along) and will be returning at the end of the first week of the new month. Dean decides that when Cas comes back, he’ll tell him. If he doesn’t feel the same, he will simply quit, to avoid awkwardness, and Cas isn’t a big enough asshole to write him a shit recommendation letter for liking him a little more than he should.

Sam had to meet with a business associate in New York and crashed at Dean’s apartment for the week again. It’s good news for Dean since he doesn’t have much to do with Cas gone, and he can catch up with Sam. They Skype with Eileen in the evenings and have dinner together, even though dinner lasts twice as long because they have to stop every couple of bites to sign to Eileen.

Dean makes sure to remember to formally introduce Sam and Adam before he goes back to Stanford. After the frankly off-putting visit from Adam at his workplace, Dean tried again when he was in a more sound mind and texted Adam. Adam apologised again for springing his presence onto him so unprofessionally and promised it won't happen again. Then they had their little meeting in the café and cleared the 'bad energy' as Kevin's mom Linda would put it.

Dean had told Sam about Adam over the phone and while a little wary at first for all the same reasons as Dean, he eventually warmed up and got excited to meet him. Maybe he can plan something for all three of them before Cas comes back from London. He’s not sure if he’s ready to meet Dad with Adam around yet, so he holds off on it when he asks Adam if he’s free this week.

Adam agrees to talk over coffee in his favourite café near Lenox Hill Hospital due to his tight schedule, and Dean doesn’t have the heart to say no when he asks if Michael can come along. He figures that maybe Adam could give him advice on Cas or something. Maybe Michael himself would know a thing or two if his dad is familiar with Cas. All of this without implicating Cas, of course.

Sam secures them a seat near the window and they order their drinks. Dean accidentally asks for Cas’s usual order out of habit and decides it’s not worth it to ask for another cup. It’s the first time he’s tasted Cas’s order and it’s actually pretty good — the endless specifications end up being pretty worth the trouble. He’s not sure if he likes it so much because of the taste or because it reminds him of Cas. He wonders that if he kisses Cas after he drinks his coffee, how much of it would he taste and how much of it would be Cas.

“Hey,” Sam says, snapping his fingers in front of Dean’s eyes. “You kinda shut down there. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, just thinking,” Dean replies, shaking his head.

Sam nods toward the cup in his hand and says, “Yeah, what’s with the order, man? Isn’t that Cas’s order?”

“Force of habit,” Dean mutters, sipping at the hot liquid. “I like it though. You should try it next time.”

“Maybe later,” Sam says half-heartedly. He looks up suddenly, asking, “That must be him, right?” Sam’s subtly pointing at Adam, donning formal wear under a streetwear coat. Obviously, he's left his doctor’s coat at the hospital and opted for something more casual. Adam perks up when he spots them.

“Hi, Sam,” Adam says, holding out a hand that Sam shakes. “I’m Adam.”

“Hey,” Sam greets, smiling. 

Adam starts off instantly, saying, “Dean told me you have a girlfriend, Eileen, right? How is she?” Sam and Adam get into a conversation about her and then their own careers, and for once, Dean feels like his biological family has some form of stability. Yeah, his non-blood-related family is awesome, but this is good too. 

While Sam tells him about Eileen, Adam tells him about Michael. Dean honestly thought someone like Adam would go for a guy a little less quiet but maybe he likes the whole tall, dark, and mysterious vibe. To each their own. And hey, maybe Michael isn't as brooding as Dean thinks he is.

Adam follows Dean when he stands to get himself a cookie and says, “Dad talked to me.”

Dean pauses and quirks a smile at the cashier, telling her he’ll come back later. He turns to Adam. “What?”

“He came to see me at work and he told me to pass a message to you the next time I see you.”

Dean raises both eyebrows incredulously, “What, he can’t tell me himself? I have a phone.”

“You didn’t give him your number,” Adam says, giving him an odd smile. “He wanted me to pass you his contact and to tell you that he wanted to meet you and Sam, actually talk things out. He felt like the first time, it didn't pan out. He wanted to try again, that he owed you two that much.”

Dean takes John’s number and it is odd to look at the digits on the small slip of paper, knowing that there is another end to it, an end that won’t tell him that it is unavailable, an end that will ask, “Dean, is that you?” when he calls.

Dean asks quietly, "How much of that was actually his words?"

Adam presses his lips together in hesitation, and he eventually says, "I paraphrased."

“Thanks,” Dean says anyway, shoving the number into his pocket.

Adam adds, a little on the fence about mentioning it, but says, "Michael's sorry about bombarding you at work too."

Dean levels him a look. "Okay, and how much of that was actually his words?"

"I paraphrased," Adam echoes again. "Not so much paraphrased as just apologising on his behalf. Michael tends to be... lacking tact sometimes. Gets it from his dad, I think. Chuck Shurley doesn’t do a good job of knowing if people hate him or not and Mike’s better at knowing how people feel, just not so great at acting accordingly."

Dean politely laughs and Adam is about to turn back when Dean decides to ask, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

"What's Dad like? You know, when you were growing up," Dean goes for it. Why not, right? He's already hurt enough, might as well get a taste of what bullshit John will feed him when they do meet. "Just tell me, I want to know."

Adam answers slowly, "He does spend a lot of time at work, but what hours he isn't busy spending fixing up other people's cars, he spends with us. He watched all my baseball games, took me to some out of town ones." He stops there, just two examples, but Dean knows there's way more than that. Maybe he thinks this is enough and it's just bragging if he goes on, even if Dean was the one who asked.

Dean nods, looking down at the floor before glancing up at Sam. He's looking out of the window into the busy street, watching cars go by in a blur. He says, "Okay."

He isn't okay.

In 2000, Castiel was 15 years old, but he has watched enough tutorials on the orphanage's out of date computers to know a few sewing tricks. He'd spent half a year learning and sketching, trying to make a leather jacket for his older brother. It's been hard, and his hands have been covered in bandaids on more than one occasion, but the end product was better than he ever thought it could be. It was his first time working with leather, and it's not the easiest of materials to work with. It is large for Gabriel at the time, he might grow into it by the time he's 25 or so.

He gives it to Gabriel when they're in their room and he was excited, praising him on the incredible jacket. He tells him he'll be big enough to wear it at some point, even though he's already 19, and he promises that he'll keep wearing it until it just won't fit over his shoulders anymore. (He is now 34, and it still fits him, even with how ridiculously old it is after 15 years.)

"What's the occasion?" Gabriel asks when he was shrugging on the jacket to look at the fit. Castiel tells him it's an apology.

“For what?” Gabriel asks.

“For living,” Castiel answers.

Castiel visits the nearby church later on and prays about everything under the sun. Gabriel comes in about half an hour after, sits down next to him, and quietly prays next to him too. Washed in thin rainbow lights under stained glass window panes, Castiel feels peaceful for once, and Gabriel appreciates that. He’s not the first to be Team God, but he adopts the practice so he can watch Castiel and be close to him. If Castiel ever strays, Gabriel will always be there to bring him right back.

The first time Castiel drunk so much he knocked himself out when he was 17 and his friend hauled him back home, Gabriel freaked out. Yeah, he himself has passed out from nights out with friends a couple of times, but this was _Castiel_ , who apologized for living when he was 15 years old. Gabriel was terrified. Castiel promised to stop drinking, but when that friend of his never showed his face again, Gabriel knew he lied.

Then Castiel started to smoke and Gabriel tried his best to keep his habits in check. If he couldn’t make him stop, he could at least knock it down a few pegs. It doesn’t work, and it has never worked, not until now.

When he and Castiel were getting ready to leave for London, Dean Winchester tells him, “Cas is trying to quit smoking and he’s been chewing gum to keep himself busy. Try stocking up on gum and keep an eye out. If he tries to get into alcohol, try your best. Help me look out for him.”

Looking out for Castiel is Gabriel’s job. It has always been since their parents died. But Gabriel can’t even find it in him to feel strange that Dean is the one telling him all this, because holy shit, Dean has done the only thing nobody else had been able to do. Bela and Crowley tried, which should have said something because both liked to smoke and drink too, but they never got very far. Missouri tried, Charlie tried, Meg tried, Balthazar tried, God knows Gabriel tried. Dean got further than any of them because Castiel is actually chewing fucking _gum_ to kick his smoking habit.

“Thank you,” Gabriel says when Dean tells him that. He’s rarely so sincere.

He listens to Dean’s advice and keeps chewing gum on hand for when Castiel burns through his supply on particularly bad days and keeps the alcohol out of sight. Even he abstains from drinking as long as Castiel is there.

Dean is, admittedly, good for his brother, Gabriel realizes. He can see it on his face. He’s happier, he’s trying to quit smoking, he’s cutting down on drinking as much as he can, his temper isn’t so harsh nowadays.

So maybe Winchester’s crush on his brother may never come to any sort of resolution, but Gabriel thinks if, on the off chance it does, he would readily approve of Dean. Maybe at the start, he wouldn’t have, but now things are different. Dean is good.

When Cas and Gabriel come back into the NOVAK building upon their return, late at night after most people have left, Dean hugs him hello before stepping back, remembering that Cas is his boss and that may have been a little inappropriate in his office. Albeit the fact that most of the other coworkers have gone home already. Dean only stayed behind to sort out documents submitted by other departments.

But Cas gives him a smile that tingles his cheeks in a way that it registers very late that he is smiling too.

“I gather you missed me,” Cas says, teasing, once Gabriel leaves them to say hi to his other friends.

“Go out with me?” Dean asks before his brain kicks in and he backs out.

Cas’s smile freezes and he asks through the surprise, “Go out where? I'm a little jetlagged but I suppose I can go for some food —"

"On a date," Dean clarifies, eyes staring steadily into Cas's shaky ones. "Go out with me."

“Are you asking me out?” Cas’s voice is quiet.

“Yeah, I am,” Dean affirms.

Cas closes the door to his office, making their souls the only two in their world, and trails off, “Dean...”

“Sorry, I know this isn’t an office kind of conversation but I didn’t want to keep putting this off. If you want to give me an answer another time, it’s all good with me —“

“No, we can talk now. I don’t have any pressing matters,” Cas declines. “Dean, listen, I won’t make a good date.”

“I know you think you won’t but I don’t,” Dean replies. “We’ve been on plenty of 'dates' together. You’ve had dinner at my place, you’ve met my brother and you get along really well.”

Cas tries again, “I haven’t dated in a long time.”

“I can be patient.”

“I... Dean, I know that kiss in the cab meant something to me but I can’t... No, I’m scared. I’m scared of this. I’m scared because I don’t dare to do any of this in public,” Cas rambles. “Don’t take it the wrong way, I like you. I think I like you too much, but I don’t think I can be good enough for you. You’re... you’re you, Dean. And I’m _me_ , I’m a _mess_ , and I —“

Dean interrupts him by pressing his lips to Cas’s, and all his words melt away into a heavy sigh against his mouth. Cas leans on the table, mouth moving against Dean’s. Dean palms Cas’s jaw and he slides a hand to thread his fingers through the short hair at his neck. Dean’s hands are on Cas’s skin and yet it feels like they are never close enough.

They pull away and Cas’s hair is messy at the bottom where Dean’s hands have run through it, and he is breathlessly beautiful under the office lamp’s thin light, and he is _Castiel_ , and Dean says, “ _I like you_ , Cas.”

Here, so close to Cas, Dean can see. The beginnings of crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, the way his eyelashes fade to bronze where the light kisses it. The elegant angel’s bow above his pink lips, down to the sharp line of his jaw in his hand. Their eyes meet in the half-dark, Cas unconvinced, Dean reassuring, Cas’s like unsteady lightning and Dean’s like gentle grasslands.

Cas's eyes break away from Dean's before meeting them again a moment later. "I'm too scared to make this public."

“We can do it at your time when you’re ready. I’m not asking for you to announce to the whole world that we’re dating,” Dean says. “All I’m asking for is a date.”

This is reasonable. This is an arrangement Cas would have liked in the best-case scenario. Dean understands and is willing to compromise. He didn't want to force Cas to do anything he didn't want to, he just wanted him. Best of all, all this is of Dean's will. If he wasn't willing to work with Cas's debilitating fear of being out, he wouldn't have said any of it. The thought of that knocks down the wall of anxiety in his mind. Just a little, but just enough.

"Okay," Cas says like a weight's been lifted off of his shoulders. "I'll go on a date with you, Dean."

"I'll cook us dinner," Dean smiles. "How do you feel about salmon and white wine?"

Cas smiles, troubles draining away at how Dean's face lights up when he's planning dinner, and he says, "I can't wait."

When Dean and Sam arrange to talk to John the day before Sam has to fly back to Stanford, he is in a significantly better mood than he would have been. NOVAK has Sundays off, only select employees have to come back if Cas has anything he needs them to do for him, so Cas is coming over for their first dinner date. Well, not the first, but certainly the first official one.

Dean had called John after Cas said yes to a date, and he is a little sheepish to admit that he anticipated a "Leave a message at the tone" or a "The number you are calling has been disconnected". John actually answers this time, and they agree to lunch at Dean's place — Sam's idea; in the event that one of them ends up just losing it, at least they won't make a scene. 

John attempts to look a little more presentable. He's clearly looked up Dean online because he tries to dress a little more fashion-conscious. He's not in flannel but in denim. Not exactly that much higher a step up, but a step up nonetheless. Sam doesn't bother and he wears that flannel shirt that Dean remembers Cas thought was the ugliest one he has ever seen.

John brings them cheap wine, and he starts with a simple hello.

Dinner is awkward at best. John sparks conversations every few moments, about his job, asking after Sam and Dean, and while Dean tries to keep the fire going, though weak-willed, Sam douses the flame every time.

Eventually, John says, “I heard from Adam that he met Sam a few days ago. How was that?”

Sam answers, “Saw the kind of kid Dean and I could have been if you stuck around.” Normally, Dean would tell Sam to stop stirring the pot, but Dean is buzzing with a newfound irritation and he stays quiet. 

John’s brows furrow in deep lines as he notes uselessly, “It hurt you.”

“No shit,” Dean finally says, putting down his cutlery. The quiet clatter of stainless steel on porcelain plates rings loud in their ears with the tension. “I called you and you never called me back. Not once.” He takes a deep breath, keeps the image of Cas’s eyes, deeper than an ocean, in his mind, and looks back down at his plate. “Forget it.”

Sam is relentless, though. “No. I may have grown up fine because I was too young to remember and I had Bobby and Dean, but you messed Dean up.”

“Sam, stop it.”

"Sorry," Sam mutters, folding his arms as he throws John the most bitter look he has. Sam can be more than too protective at times. He never backs down from a fight like this, but Dean would be lying if he said he wouldn't be the same if the roles were reversed.

John shakes his head, locking his fingers together as he leans forward on his elbows. “No, tell me. I want to know.”

Sam scoffs like he can’t believe John still doesn’t know what kind of damage he’d done just up and leaving like that without so much as a note. Dean can’t disagree. He thought this would be pretty clear-cut but apparently not.

Dean gives John a painfully plastic smile, simmering with the beginnings of rage, and he says, “Okay. You know what? I’m pissed at you.” John nods once, gesturing for Dean to elaborate, so Dean does. “You are... the fucking worst thing to happen to me. God, I look at you and I know you’re my dad, and I want to work this out, but I am so fucking pissed at you.”

“Why are you so mad?” John asks. That’s what sends the remaining of Dean’s good mood down the drain.

“ _Because_! Because I have spent my entire childhood defending you to Sam! And Bobby, Ellen, and Jo. Even the goddamn barflies at the Roadhouse who told me my dad ain’t shit,” Dean explodes. Sam flinches slightly — he’d never been one to shout during an argument — but recovers quickly. John levels his gaze with him steadily and it only fuels Dean more. “I always covered for you, I told Sammy that you were on a business trip because that’s what your voicemail said. You’d come back for us and staying at Bobby’s was just temporary. You never fucking came back, and Sam grew up and knew you left us behind. Even then, I still tried but I can only defend you for so long.”

He remembers Adam right then, him and his fucking baseball games, and he says bitterly, “Then I find out you decided this family’s gone to shit so you made another one. Adam, you know Adam, he grew up great. He said you worked a lot but you were there. You sounded like this...” He takes a moment to just sit in the anger before continuing. Sam listens quietly, letting Dean say all the words he has in his mind. “... this fucking boring dad.”

“Why are you so upset about _that_?” John asks, referring just to the aspect of ‘lame suburban dad’ and Dean’s venom when he says it.

Dean snaps, “Because if you were gonna be some boring dad to Adam, then why the hell couldn’t you have been that for _us_?”

Sam sighs, heavy, and John says, “I’m sorry, boys.”

“Why didn’t you ever come back?” Sam asks while Dean fills his mind with Cas’s smile to calm down. “Did you forget about us? Did you not want to come back? What?”

“It was too painful,” John says, looking down at his hands like it doesn't just further agitate them. "I couldn't go back to the house Mary died in... I loved her."

“I get that, I do. But I thought you loved us more than that,” Dean says quietly.

John doesn’t have an answer to that and rightfully so, because neither brother feels like there is any explanation reasonable enough to accept. Eventually, the silence drags on so long that dinner turns cold, and Dean says, “You know what? You can stay in contact with us. Couple meet-ups here and there, but I don’t want you as this... presence, in my life. If I could live for 29 years without you, I don’t need you now either.”

“Dean —“

“I’ll text you some time, whatever,” Dean mutters.

“Get out,” Sam says. It’s honestly off-putting how dangerously cold Sam can get when he’s royally pissed off, but it also means nobody wants to get him mad. It does wonders for his blood pressure, but Dean never had luck in that department.

John doesn’t argue for fear of making things worse. He nods, picks up his things, leaves the half-empty wine bottle behind, and leaves. The door closes with a soft thud and the faint click of the door, and he’s gone.

Dean calls Cas when Sam offers to clean up.

When Cas says _hello_ , Dean says _I basically told my dad to fuck off_.

“Congratulations,” Cas says, deadpan, and Dean breaks out with a laugh, surprisingly easy. Cas’s gravelly voice is soothing over the phone, and Dean’s anger dissipates bit by bit until he’s in a much better mood by the time Cas wishes him good night and Dean tells Sam a joke about John and his awful jeans.

When Castiel turned 9 and Gabriel blew that month’s savings on a Barbie birthday cake as a joke, a teenager at the orphanage called him a word that Castiel thinks is too offensive to repeat. The bottom line is, he’d been called the word because he was gay. Gabriel didn’t know about Castiel at the time, and he himself didn’t care what people thought about him. They ate the cake, Gabriel’s bites excited and fast, and Castiel’s slow and not in the mood.

“Just forget about it, that guy has no idea what he’s talking about,” Gabriel started saying, but he takes in Castiel’s contemplative silence and reconsidered. He leaned forward over the tiny plastic table, his knees bumping the underside of it because as a 13-year-old, he was just too big for the table, and went off, “But you know, even if he knew what he was talking about — and I use ‘knew’ loosely — if you were gay. It doesn’t matter. It’s all good.”

Castiel stared at him. Gabriel sighed and put down his plastic cutlery — pink with glitter where they held the utensils, given because of the Barbie cake.

“Look, kiddo. Being gay is... it’s not a crime. I know, I’m 13, what do _I_ know, right? But I sure as hell know a lot more than someone who's 9,” Gabriel tried for a joke and successfully won a short laugh from Castiel. “The main point is it’s not wrong. Maybe you like girls only. Maybe you like guys instead, or maybe both. Maybe more, maybe none. It doesn’t matter, Cassie. It’s all good with me.”

Castiel continued to stare — people used to tell Gabriel to get him in check because of how ridiculously much Castiel just stared at people without saying anything. He didn’t do it as much now, but he now does it with a pointed look like he wants people to know what he’s thinking.

Gabriel tried again because he might not be the best at most things, but he refused to be the guy who won’t cover all the bases with his brother. “Did something happen at the church?”

“No,” Castiel answered quietly.

“Then is it what the guy said?” Gabriel asked, patient.

“Yeah,” Castiel nodded minutely.

Gabriel got up off the tiny chair and walked over to Castiel’s side. He went down on one knee to level himself with his little brother and said, “I love you no matter what, okay? Doesn’t matter what some rat-ass guy says. The bastard can’t even colour coordinate.” That got a laugh from Castiel.

“Nobody wants to see green and orange together,” Castiel giggled.

“Exactly,” Gabriel said lightly, running a hand through Castiel’s soft hair. “Why’d it bother you so much? Are you gay?”

Castiel sobered up immediately, and he responded stiffly, “No.” He wasn’t even sure an 8-year-old kid could say something so flatly, but he did it.

“Okay,” Gabriel said, unconvinced. “But if you are, that guy... That word, you know. That word shouldn’t make you feel like it’s not okay.” Castiel tried to commit that to memory.

When he was 12 and Anna made him wear the dress he sewed for her birthday just to give her a laugh, he got called the word again. Not by the same person but by an adult who’d happened to see them. His spit landed next to them on the concrete a few moments later. When he was 16, a lot of people thought he and his boyfriend were too close and he got called that word a lot. But people got creative and started making up even more words, and Castiel hated every single one. The words would never stop.

Castiel really did try to remember what Gabriel said. In fact, it’s one of the most stand-out memories he has of his childhood. But he couldn’t.

Castiel started to worry about what people thought of him. He worried that if he wore a pink blazer that people would call him the word again. He worried that if he matched his tie with his slacks that people would call him the word. He worried that if he acted even just a little less masculine, people would call him the word, and he is so tired of worrying about the word.

He studied fashion for real and when that didn’t work, he dropped out and worked at a boutique. When his friends teased him for it, he said they pay well and it was just easy money. He only wore his branded clothes when he went out with girls. About going out with girls, Castiel has gone with numerous attempts at matchmaking by his friends, by Bela, and by Gabriel. But in his brother’s defence, he did try introducing some guys to Castiel. He was the one who shut it down every time, no matter how gut-twistingly nice some of the guys were because it meant coming out to Gabriel and he couldn’t form the words.

Castiel feared judgment. He didn’t mind people judging the clothes he designed. That’s different, that’s judging something he made, he can handle that. He can handle people telling him his clothes are garbage. He can’t handle people telling him he should go to hell because of who he slept with last night. It’s worse with his faith because for some reason a number of them believe God hates people like him, and that they should not be allowed to keep “passing on the gay agenda”. They are a group of people who believe they are right, and there is nothing more dangerous than people who don’t believe they are wrong.

This is how Castiel forced himself to stay in the closet. This is why he freaked out when he found out about the article Lucian Morningstar planned to run on him. This is why he was so grateful to Dean for handling it. This is why he started drinking and smoking so much when he turned 17. He didn’t hate himself for it, no, he was just scared of what the world would think of him.

And now Dean.

Dean, with his glass-green eyes and lovely smile. It took a lot of champagne, but Castiel finally got buzzed enough that fear turned to adrenaline and he kissed Dean back when he leaned forward in the cab. When they pulled away to pay the driver, Castiel watched with blurry eyes, the way Dean’s green eyes aren’t entirely green. It’s like it had a little sunflower that grows from the pupil, and in his tipsy mind, it’s like he sees a garden of beautiful sunflowers pointing to the sun.

Castiel’s heart stumbles in a sunflower field.

When Cas comes over for dinner on Sunday, he dresses casually. Again, in his own way. Branded streetwear. Yves Saint Laurent officer satin bomber jacket in black, plain grey H&M shirt underneath, and dark blue Levi’s jeans. Basic Skechers sneakers. It’s the most dressed down Cas has been but he still makes it look like he should be on a runway. Dean wonders why he’s never tried modelling.

The only branded thing Dean wears is just the Bulgari ring Balthazar gave him, otherwise, it’s just cheap clothes he got from a retail shop. Maybe he should have dressed a little higher, but it’s a simple dinner date in his apartment, he figures there’s leeway for that.

Turns out, Cas figures that too, because he smiles and says, “You look good, Dean.”

Friday dinner with John is quickly forgotten and replaced with memories of the time Dean attempted to ask him on a date but landed on dinner instead. The fact that this time, it is really a date and both of them thought it.

Castiel liked him. Cas _liked_ him. _Holy shit._

Dinner goes better than Dean anticipated; mostly because things tend to go bad where Dean's involved. I.E., dinner on Friday. But Cas talks more, no longer having any inhibitions now that they're officially on a date. He answers Dean's questions with an ease that wasn't there before, and he fires back at his flirtations with his own. It's a new side to Cas, a side Dean just knows the world would love, and he can't imagine why he'd ever want to hide this. Cas is so great.

Cas updates him on London with Gabriel. He tells him he made it through without smoking a single stick. He confesses that he'd gotten desperate on the fourth day but Gabriel caught him before he could buy anything. Dean tells him that as long as he's making progress, he can't be happier. He's glad he's trying.

"I did it for you," Cas admits, and though Cas has already implied this before when he asked if Dean would be happier if he quit, it still sends tingles down Dean's spine.

They flirt, they chat, they talk about funny gossip at work (like how Garth Fitzgerald, who keeps the machines at work running smoothly, tripped on flat ground when he saw Bess Myers last week, and the guy didn't even get to ask her out). When they're done eating — and Cas is done praising him for his cooking — they clean up together which results in more soap to the face like last time.

They end up with Dean being pressed up against the fridge and Cas hovering right in front. There is a small magnet that Dean can't identify pressing into his back when Cas kisses him. It's slow and it's sweet, and Dean drinks him in. Tries to breathe in as much of Cas as he can, feel the light stubble on his jaw, and the gentle pull of his hands. Dean's used to kissing hard and fast. He's used to kissing like there's something after.

They kiss like they've got all the time in the world, and it's nice.

When Cas finally pulls away, Dean turns to see what magnet it was. He detaches the cowboy hat magnet from the fridge's surface and lifts it up, saying in his worst Texan accent, " _Aloha, cowboy_."

Cas smacks his arm hard and Dean laughs, and this is exactly what he wanted.


	10. amant

_Nothing needs to be perfect to be good, and no one should need to feel perfect to feel right._   
**Christian Louboutin**

“On Wikipedia —“

“Don’t tell me about Wikipedia. Tell me about you, from you.”

Castiel draws in a deep breath, lets it stay in his lungs until it crawls out of his mouth, and tries again, “My name is Castiel James Novak. I was born in September 1985. I have an elder brother of four years named Gabriel and my parents have been dead since before I could remember.”

A pen clicking. “Did you move around a lot because of that?”

“I grew up in Pontiac, Illinois, in a small orphanage. There was this short time when I got shipped off to Aurora, Colorado to go with a foster family, but I was such a hellish child that they sent me back,” Castiel says laboriously, knowing what fact of himself he was building up to. “When Gabriel got old enough to get out of the orphanage, he took guardianship of me and we went off to Manhattan in New York. Just a cheap studio in Hell’s Kitchen on the worst street in the city.” He links his fingers together. “When we had enough money, we moved to New York City.”

“Your education must have suffered from that, did it?”

“I went to New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology,” Castiel starts. “I dropped out because we couldn’t afford it.” He bites his lip, anxious, and says, “You can find all of this on Wikipedia, I think it’s easier to just read it out —“

“Mr. Novak,” she says, leaning forward in her chair. Pushes a bit of her straight brown hair behind her ear. “We agreed that we would start with the basics, and then we would build-up to the main bit. If this is too hard for you, we can do something else. It's all at your own pace, you're in control.”

Castiel draws in a slow breath, running his hands over his thighs, and shakes his head, “No, no. I’ll... I’ll try again, please.”

“Of course. Take your time.”

Castiel inhales sharply and starts again, “I dropped out because we couldn’t afford it. I worked at Red Boutique after that and the manager sold my designs at the shop. Vogue’s creative director at the time liked my designs and insisted that Vogue run a piece on my collection. My career took off then.”

“That’s good,” Kelly Kline smiles. It’s a relaxing sight, in a different way from Dean’s. “Did you make any friends?”

“Bela was my first friend in the industry. Tabloids like to think I’m dating her, but...” 

“But?”

“It’s not possible,” Castiel manages. “There’s also Crowley. Some of my employees. Gabriel, Anna. Dean.”

Kelly nods, tapping her pen quietly on the top of her clipboard. “What else do the tabloids say about you, Mr Novak?”

“Castiel is fine.”

“Okay, Castiel. What else do they say?”

Castiel answers, “Dean tells me they make it seem like my life is perfect.”

“Is that true?” Kelly asks, leaning over on her crossed legs to show attentiveness.

“No,” Castiel says, shaking his head slightly. “It’s all wrong...”

“Tell me what they’ve got wrong,” Kelly says, clicking her pen, ready to note anything of importance, anything that can spur Castiel’s progress.

Castiel is slow when he lists. He says his first answer, “First, Bela and I are not dating. We never have and we never will. She’s dating one of my designers... Well, Dean would say ‘dating’ is a loose term for what they do.” Kelly quirks a smile at that. Though small, it does help with Castiel’s growing anxiety. He adds another correction, “For another, I don’t actually sleep on silk sheets, rolling in money. Bela does, though. Dean gets a kick out of that.”

Kelly looks at him, amused. “You and Bela are close.”

“She’s always been there,” Castiel agrees.

“But I noticed you mentioned someone more than her,” Kelly says. “Dean.” Castiel nods, smile on his face, until she asks, “Who is he to you? Your employee? Friend? Family?”

 _Boyfriend_. The word rests on the tip of Castiel’s tongue. It would be so easy to say. Kelly still doesn’t know about Castiel, she just knows she’s here to help him, make it easier to come out eventually.

He says instead, “Someone who means more to me than anyone before.” It’s not a lie. “I’m here because of him, actually.” Though a secret from Dean (listed as ‘Lunch with Kelly’ on his schedule), Castiel wanted to be better for Dean, which meant finally hauling himself to therapy so he can eventually make this relationship public at some point. He knows Dean won’t want to hide forever, _nobody_ does. If the roles were switched, Castiel understood. He just hopes he can make the deadline like he makes every other deadline — right on time.

Kelly nods and writes it down. “That's nice. Tell me more about you. Do you have any hobbies? Something you like to do when you’re not working?”

Castiel contemplates it — it’s been months, he thinks, since he’s done something for himself and not for work. Dinners are for business, almost _every_ minute is for business actually, and his non-work hours all belong to Dean (not that he’s complaining). He answers, “I like being with Dean. Last week, he got me into this popular movie franchise. Star Wars. It’s a science-fiction soap opera, of sorts. I never had the time to watch it on my own and now he's here and we can watch it together. It's not much but it’s something, right?”

“Right,” she affirms kindly. “What else?”

“I like to... I like to read,” Castiel says.

“What are you reading now?”

“I usually read poetry; Walt Whitman, Edgar Allan Poe... Or thick fiction. Victor Hugo, Neil Gaiman. I stick to classics, faster to get a title than scouring in a library for obscure titles,” Castiel explains. “But Dean has this book he likes. It’s a comic book actually, about this blind Catholic lawyer. It’s a compilation issue of all the ones written by... I think his name was Mark Waid. So I guess it can count as thick fiction.” He remembers the way Dean’s face lit up when he explained to him who Daredevil was, and why he thought Castiel would like the comics. He clears his throat and rounds back, “To answer your question, I’ve been reading Daredevil comic books.”

“Dean’s done a number on you,” Kelly observes, looking up from her notes on her clipboard. It’s without judgment, just simple observation, and for once, Castiel is calm at the implication.

He nods once, “He has.”

“Tell me more about you, something a little more personal. Just a little.”

Castiel works up the nerve and offers, “My brother doesn’t know me entirely. There’s something I’ve been hiding from him. I know it to be irrational... I know he would never see me differently for it, but I can never find the courage.”

“What is it?” Kelly asks. She waits patiently while Castiel stares at the way his hands tremble and becomes acutely aware of how shallow his breath has gotten. She touches his arm, gentle and grounding. A different way from Dean’s, again, but helpful to his stress all the same.

“I haven’t told him...” Castiel gulps. “That I’m ga—“ He runs both hands over his face and sighs. “Gabriel doesn’t know that —“

“This is a safe space, Castiel,” Kelly says, keeping her voice low. It almost echoes in his mind, resonating.

“I’m sorry, Kelly. I can’t. Not yet,” Castiel apologizes, shaking his head. “I’ve wasted your time, I’m sorry.”

“No, this is progress. You were very close,” Kelly encourages with a gentle smile. “Castiel, therapy isn’t supposed to a one-day thing. It’s a healing process and that never takes a day. It takes time, you should go a little easier on yourself. It’s not going to make you up all new and ready to destroy all your fears in just a day, you get what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

Kelly smiles, patting his hand once. “It’s supposed to just help you along. It takes time, Castiel.” She repeats his name often, he notices, but he’s read about it before. A psychological trick; repeat a name throughout the conversation to keep attention. Sam has the same habit, though Castiel doubts that it’s for the same reason as Kelly. “You admitted that you were hiding something and you came so close to saying it! Castiel, that’s progress. More progress than I anticipated. I’m sure it’s more than you expected from yourself too.”

Castiel admits, “It was.”

Kelly moves her hand up to his shoulder, looking questioningly at him for permission. When he doesn’t object, she pulls him into a comforting hug. “I’m proud of you and I know Dean will be too. It’s always okay to back down when you’re not ready yet, you have all the time in the world to come back.”

“No dishonour in retreat,” Castiel recites quietly.

Kelly raises her eyebrows. “Sorry?”

“Daredevil said that in the issue I was reading on the way here,” Castiel provides context.

Kelly chuckles softly. “Daredevil sounds like a wise man.”

Cas paces the workshop while Kevin’s fingers graze the material for Krysten Ritter’s dress. Dean leans against a worktable, pen poised, and ready over his planner notebook as his eyes follow Cas.

“Viola Davis committed?”

“Yep,” Dean answers. “She’s going with the Giambattista Valli dress you selected for her.”

“Good. Then what about Jon Hamm, the suit I made for him? He’s still committed to that one, right?” Cas asks, looking at a black suit across the room. Alan Corbett runs around trying to pull over the rack of Emmy outfits for easier access.

Dean affirms, “He confirmed too. Krysten’s up for the dress too. So is Benedict Cumberbatch with the blue suit, but I think the green tie will work better with the open blazer than the red one —“

“Mr Novak,” Kevin suddenly says, looking afraid. “Viola’s dress... There’s a hole in the back of it.”

“ _No_ ,” Cas says, voice low with dread as Kevin holds up the dress for him to see. Cas holds up the back of it to stare, gaping, at the hole at the waistline that grows bigger by the second. “Who touched the fucking dress?”

“I gave everyone strict orders not to touch or try on any of the Emmy outfits,” Kevin quickly defends. “I wasn’t aware if anyone did. I can ask Bartholomew for the security camera footage if you want me to.”

Cas looks like he’s about to explode — two days to the Emmy’s and there’s a big hole in Viola Davis’s dress. Everyone there is going to see the horrible attempt at reparation. Dean says quietly to Kevin, “Bring the dress to Isaac, see if he can fix the hole.” Kevin nods, taking the dress and hesitating, checking if Cas is alright with him leaving before he goes. Alan watches Cas as if, if he took his eyes off of him for a second, he would get shot. Dean puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder and watches them sag when their eyes connect as if just the touch of Dean is enough to stop him from going into hysteria over a torn dress.

“Dean, check with Giambattista Valli’s rep in case Isaac can’t fix it,” Cas says, quickly plastering on the same cold steel look he gets when he’s going business mode.

Dean nods and says quietly, “Remember to breathe, Cas.”

Dean doesn’t even realize his hand has slipped into Cas’s until Cas jerks away to pace the room. It’s then that Dean is reminded that Alan is still there just as Cas sends the younger man away with, “Go up to storage, find something for Viola.”

Alan nods and scurries off to the elevator to find a few backup options. Once he’s gone, Dean goes and pulls Cas to his chest tightly, feeling Cas melt into his embrace now that they’re alone. Something deep in his chest stirs but Dean doesn’t bother trying to figure out if it is out of care for Cas, worry over the hole in the dress, or something else entirely. Cas continues, “Find a model with a similar build to Viola to model the dresses for us to pick, I’m sure most of the models will be at the runway right now, maybe with Balthazar. Kevin should be back in a few minutes. Send the model here and go to storage, pick the dresses. Corbett is a garment technologist, he’s not going to know what dress screams Viola, he’ll only know what’s comfortable. You know more than him, you’re a stylist.”

“Alright, I’ll send her up as soon as I find her,” Dean says, pressing a kiss to Cas’s temple in an attempt to try and alleviate his stress.

Kevin comes back just then, holding the dress in his arms with an upset look. Dean steps back and Cas looks to Kevin, raising his eyebrows as if to ask what news he has. “Isaac said only the original designer can fix the hole —“

“Shit,” Cas mutters, running a hand through his hair. It messes it up further and only adds to his worrying outlook. “Dean, go.”

“On it,” Dean assures, quickly moving. He finds the model he’s looking for at the runway with Meg, out of all people Dean would rather not trouble himself with right now.

Meg questions, her drawl twice as slow now that Dean is pressed for time, “Winchester, what are you taking Ingrid for?”

“Meg, I really don’t have time, Cas is probably gonna fire someone today over a dress,” Dean says, impatient. “Can I borrow Ingrid?”

Meg narrows her eyes, “What dress?”

“He thinks someone wore Viola Davis’s Emmy’s dress because now it’s got a hole in the back and the designer has to repair it but we obviously don’t have time to fly it over to Rome so we need to find a replacement dress,” Dean fires off. “Now can I borrow Ingrid or not for fitting?”

Meg finally relents, waving Ingrid over, “Fine. But I need her back by 7 tonight, at the latest. We need her for a photo shoot.”

“Fine,” Dean echoes. He gives Ingrid a warm smile when she walks over and leaves with her, feeling Meg’s stare burn into the back of his head.

Cas finishes altering Viola Davis's replacement dress a week before the event with Dean’s help; late into the night, they bring the dress to Dean’s apartment to work on — Cas insists that his house is too messy and he’d rather have it look presentable when Dean visits for the first time.

Cas is supposed to attend the Emmy’s, invited by actress Tessa Reaper as her plus one. There isn’t any leeway for invitations, and Cas apologizes for being unable to bring Dean along. Dean kisses him and tells him to enjoy himself with Tessa, even if he jokes that Tessa should have invited him instead, which earns him a hard stare by Cas followed by his endearing head tilt, but he kisses him right after.

While Cas leaves early for the Emmy’s, Dean makes a different trip. Gabriel and Crowley wanted to try the food at a little café that Pamela discovered, a small place named Guidry’s Cajun Café. Pamela said it was delicious, and after bringing Missouri, Kevin and a few other friends, Dean, Gabriel, and Crowley were sold. They order some of the dishes Pamela specified to be her favourites, trusting her taste, and when the food is brought over, Dean does a double-take at the server.

“Benny?” Dean says, looking up at him.

He doesn’t look as young as he did ten years ago; He now has an impressively thick beard but his eyes are still kind. Benny smiles small, “Hey, Dean.”

“Sorry, boys. I’ll be back in a few,” Dean apologizes, standing. “Go ahead, don’t wait for me.” He walks over to the side with Benny, giving him a hug once they’re alone. “Holy shit, man. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Benny agrees, returning the hug. “I heard from your pal Pamela Barnes when she came here. I thought maybe she meant a different Dean, y’know? But here you are. You’re in fashion?”

“Yep, P.A. for Cas Novak,” Dean affirms proudly. “Hoping to start my own label someday.”

Benny says encouragingly, wiping his hands clean with a cloth, “I’ll bet you can do it.” He glances back into the kitchen and does a waving motion, pointing at his watch and holding up five fingers, blinking his hand twice. “Come on, catch me up. What’ve you been up to?”

“I already told you,” Dean smiles, confused.

Benny gives him a knowing look, sitting down across from him at a small table. “Come on, the charming Dean Winchester doesn’t have someone on his arm?”

“Charming, huh?” Dean grins. “Well, I have a boyfriend.”

“There we go,” Benny says, grinning. "How is he?"

"He's good, it's good," Dean says, nodding along. "It's still pretty new but I really like him. What about you?"

Benny looks back at the kitchen, to a woman who waves to them through the small window, and says, "Andrea. She's been my rock through everything. Don't know what I'd do without that amazing woman."

"That's sweet," Dean comments sincerely, raising a hand back as a still wave to her with a smile.

"Enough about me, what about your boy?" Benny asks, folding his arms on the table and leaning forwards with interest.

Dean pulls a face of deep thought and shrugs, "Guess."

"Ain't that a fashion label or something?" Benny replies, and Dean raises both eyebrows at him until Benny chuckles. "You know I'm only pulling your leg. Alright, my guess is he's on the shy side because you haven't even told me his name yet." Dean dramatically frowns in a way that says he's not wrong, and Benny takes that as a cue to continue, "He's not one of those two with you." Benny points at Crowley and Gabriel — Gabriel talks animatedly, both hands moving as he speaks, while Crowley listens, eating his food calmly.

"Yep," Dean affirms. "You're good."

"So he's that shy, huh?"

Dean replies, "You can put it that way."

Benny raises both hands with a smile, "Alright, I won't push. I think I get it. But you really like this guy?"

Dean gives him a breezy grin, picturing Cas in his mind's eye. "Yeah, you know, he's headstrong, knows what he wants, knows how to handle shit. Humour's dry sometimes but he sure rocks it. Dripping in fashion labels every time I see him but you know it's never about how much it cost, he genuinely loves the clothes. Looks damn sexy in his Prada coat, not gonna lie." Benny chuckles at that, which just spurs Dean on, "And when he's not being all scary cold commander, he's kind. Doesn't show it often to most people, but he's got this softer side that I wish I could see all the time."

"So you're sayin' the guy's perfect?" Benny asks.

Dean ponders it over, and says, "No."

Benny's lips pull down in confusion, "Not perfect?"

"Man, if he was perfect, I'd never have liked him," Dean shrugs, thinking about it. "Perfect people are terrifying as shit. No mistakes, never wrong, no human error. No improving, no trying... Perfect's a _nightmare_. I'll take imperfect any day." Benny laughs boisterously at that, and Dean raises an eyebrow, "What's so funny?" 

"The man has you philosophising about perfection. You're _gone_ on him," Benny teases, and Dean doesn't deny it.

Cas comes into work the next day in full Max Mara — a plain navy weave blazer with lined button fastening, ultramarine crepe de chine blouse underneath, and poplin trousers. It surprises Dean, mainly because Max Mara is a womenswear brand (with just four similar-looking sunglasses as their only menswear) and Cas has worn menswear for all the time Dean has known him.

Cas puts Dean’s coffee down on his desk, with Dean already having placed his coffee on his office desk earlier on, and asks, “Yes, Dean?”

Dean looks him up and down — Cas pulls off Max Mara well, actually. He must have ordered bigger sizes and had them tailored to better suit his body since their cuts are for women. Unless Cas has way more curves under his expensive clothes than he lets on... Dean licks his lips and brings his eyes back up to Cas’s, simply saying, “Max Mara.”

“Yes,” Cas affirms, running a hand down the front of his blazer from his chest to his waist. “And?”

“You look so fucking hot,” Dean blurts out. Cas’s face splits into this beautiful grin that has Dean weak but he recovers when he sees Rowena’s bright red hair from his peripheral vision. Cas straightens up as well, catching on.

"Castiel," Rowena calls from the doorway. Dean and Cas look up to see her and she says, "Richard Roman has a Leviathan Fall collection runway event in two weeks."

Cas nods slowly. "I'm aware. And?"

"And he invited you," she adds, looking a little hesitant. Dean rarely sees that expression on bold, persuasive Rowena. "You should go."

Cas visibly looks drained. "Why me?" Dean can't help but chuckle at that and it does bring a faint smile to Cas's face even if it doesn't last long.

"Because you can't risk looking petty," Rowena chastises but it's without malice. "You can bring Dean but you should go. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Well, his designs aren't exactly moving worlds. I think I'd be wasting my time." Cas shrugs.

Dean looks over at him. "If you go, I'll make you dinner."

"Fine," Cas relents. "But you have to come with me."

“Did you even have to ask?” Dean asks, smiling easily.

Rowena looks between them thoughtfully and says, shutting the office door behind her, "I don't mean to intrude, but I know about Dean, and I know about Castiel." Dean catches onto what she's implying and looks over at Cas, leaving it to him. It's Cas's turn to look hesitant, and Dean watches the way his hands wring together.

Cas's brain processes a few things. 1) Dean is putting the ball in his court, 2) Rowena already knows he's gay, which leads to 3) This technically isn't coming out, right? This was just adding on to what's already there. That should be easy. Just two words, and not even the ones that scare him.

Cas says, keeping his eyes firmly on Dean to still his racing heart, “We’re dating.”

Dean’s gaze is both alarmed and surprised and Rowena’s face lights up with glee. “That’s wonderful.”

Cas returns her smile and, albeit weary, it is genuine. "It is."

“I’ll leave you boys to it, then. My lips are sealed,” Rowena promises, moving her fingers across her lips like a zipper and flashing them both a bright grin before she leaves the office.

Once she's gone, Dean turns to him. "You said it. Holy shit, Cas."

Cas starts to downplay it, even though he has this buzzing adrenaline in him that makes him feel great, and there's a sort of tranquil air in his mind like relief, "It's not even coming out, she already knew."

" _Still_ ," Dean insists, coming over to stand closer to Cas. "It's more than you're used to."

"I've been going to therapy for it," Cas admits quietly. "For you."

Dean raises his eyebrows, realization dawning on his face. "Lunch with Kelly." Cas nods and Dean just smiles, "I'm so damn proud of you, Cas. Are you free tonight?"

"You know if I'm free," Cas replies, rolling his eyes but clearly glad that they're moving topics. "But I am. Why?"

"I wanna make you dinner," Dean says, grinning widely.

Dinner is short when it happens. Dean makes them the fastest food he can make — pancakes. Cas chastises Dean for feeding them pancakes for dinner, but there's no real venom behind it and he ends up eating five of them with so much syrup that Dean has to stop him before he goes crazy on it. Dean insists on lighting candles to "set the mood", and Cas blows them out every time he relights them.

Dean leaves the dishes for tomorrow and lets Cas convince him to watch Interstellar, starring Matthew McConaughey, Anne Hathaway, and a couple of other actors that Dean loses track of once he gets distracted with Cas falling asleep, the adrenaline from work finally run flat.

It's a silent consensus for Cas to stay the night, and Dean's unsure where Cas stands on sharing beds so he leaves Cas with the more comfortable bed in his room and plans to take the guest bed for the night. Dean presses a kiss to his forehead, mumbling a quiet good night, and Cas reaches a tired arm out to pull him into bed with him.

Dean falls asleep next to Cas and it's just the way an angelic golden hue settles across Cas's face when the early morning light climbs over their tangled bodies and bedsheets. The autumn sun is kind, and Cas's smile is hazy but happy, his face looking younger without any trace of tension for once.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas says, his voice even more gravelly, roughened by sleep, and it's somehow even more endearing.

Everything in Dean twists and aches, and he feels almost breathless in a dizzy, cloudy way. It's the sight of Cas in the morning that is so warm and sweet, and Dean is just _breathless_.

"Dean?" Cas mumbles again, rubbing an eye with a slow hand as he reaches for the mug by the nightstand. "Are you alright?"

"Never better," Dean says, throat dry and heart full. "Mornin', sunshine."


	11. copain

_Buy less. Choose well. Make it last. Quality, not quantity._   
**Vivienne Westwood**

"How does this look?"

Crowley raises his eyebrows as he watches Dean come out of the changing room in a fatigued jacket with screen-printed and embroidered graphics on it. It's a fairly decent shade of loden green, and Dean thought he looked good in it. It's not a far cry from the typical denim he wore when he wasn't trying hard with his looks. Crowley doesn't seem to share the sentiment, though — his stare turns judgemental and he reaches out to the rack behind him to pull out a croissant-coloured skater jacket with embroidery. "Try this instead."

"Aw, come on," Dean pouts dramatically, turning to look at himself in the mirror. He grins when he sees Crowley's flat look in the reflection. "I think I look hot."

"No," Crowley says, pulling a disgusted expression as he shakes the jacket in his hand. "Try this one."

Dean rolls his eyes but shrugs the jacket off anyway, pulling on the one Crowley suggested. Dean doesn't always wear light colours, so it's a nice change of pace of sorts. They were at an outlet of Billionaire Boys Club, shopping for clothes. Crowley only agreed to come along because he didn't want to deal with the upcoming fall collection for Crossroads. Dean had been concerned that he'll be hindering Crowley's work, but he insisted that he can always do the planning for styling later since Bela and her designers still weren't done making the clothes themselves.

Crowley nods approvingly, "Better. Are you going to get that?"

Dean hums in thought, turning side to side to get a good look before he picks up the green jacket. "I'm getting this one." Crowley throws his hands up exasperatingly but doesn't push it further when Dean pays for it at the counter. After so many months of working for Cas, Dean's earned more than enough to be able to just blow $200 on a jacket at Billionaire Boys Club. It helps that he gets to save some cash with the storage closet at NOVAK.

Once they're out of the store to find another one to visit, Crowley says observationally, "Someone's got a skip in his step. What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asks, perking up as he nods towards Saks Fifth Avenue. Crowley gets the cue and they cross the road to get to it.

Crowley clarifies, "Your little talk with Lafitte at the cajun café that time... And you and Wings are awfully close."

"I'm his personal assistant," Dean points out. "Of course things get personal."

"I can see you two, you know." Crowley rolls his eyes.

Dean stares at him for a full minute, letting people bristle past them outside Saks Fifth Avenue, until he eventually asks, "Did Rowena tell you?"

Crowley gives him a look, the kind where he's calling you ridiculous without even having to one his mouth, but he catches himself. Maybe he's intuitive enough to know Dean's being dead serious and a snarky comment would deprive him of the answer he wants to hear. Either way, Crowley answers, "My mother knows when to keep her mouth shut. And she didn't have to. I've been friends with Wings for years. I know what he's like. I know what he likes. He's not exactly Mr Subtle."

"He doesn't know you know."

"He doesn't," Crowley affirms. "So can I take that as a confirmation?"

"No," Dean replies, walking into Saks Fifth Avenue briskly.

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean I'm not at liberty to say," Dean says.

Crowley stares at Dean. "You're beginning to sound like Samuel with that formal speak."

"He hates when people call him that."

"I know he does."

Dean takes off the rack a PRPS black denim jacket, decorated with a white paint splatter over the left and across the back down the right sleeve. He pulls it on over his shirt and looks at himself in the mirror. Crowley looks on with distaste as he asks, "Why do you insist on denim? It's a crime."

"I like denim. Bite me, asshole," Dean replies snippily. "I'm getting this."

Crowley raises an eyebrow at 'asshole' and says, "Fine. Forget it. How is Wings handling the fall collection coming up?"

"He's fine... He started production a while back and he's gonna run through the designs soon to confirm lineup," Dean answers, holding up a HUGO metallic bomber jacket against himself. He turns to face Crowley who instantly shields his eyes. "Too flashy?"

"Are you a fucking car shade — get that _trash_ off of you."

Dean bursts out laughing, but he hangs the jacket back up. "Too flashy," he agrees. 

Crowley hands him a John Varvatos distressed jacket and Dean pulls it on. Crowley changes topics to gossip since Dean refuses to say anything on the Cas end of things. "Bela and Meg are back on again."

"No kidding?" Dean replies, turning to look at himself in the full-length mirror before nodding approvingly with Crowley. "Thought Bela got sick of her."

"She always says that and then I have to walk in on them making out in her office two weeks later." Crowley rolls his eyes. "I think Myers has a crush."

Dean raises both his eyebrows in interest. "Who, Fitzgerald the mechanic? I know. She's _charmed_ by him, man."

Crowley slips in then, "And I heard Winchester's getting it on with his boss."

"Yeah, and —" Dean suddenly cuts himself off, pulling a dramatically appalled expression at him, his mouth in an 'O' shape. "You motherfucker." Crowley chuckles and waves his hand to tell him he's just playing. "Man, enough."

"Yeah, that's the last time I'm trying," Crowley assures. "Isn't your car coming in tomorrow?"

It's true — John is finally giving Dean the gorgeous Impala. John took the car with him when he left Sam and Dean, and now that they've "reconnected", Dean could ask John for the car. John told him he rarely goes on drives nowadays and agrees to give it to Dean. Dean had been getting a little sick of taking a cab to work and God knows he avoids the subway like the plague because he just doesn't have the energy to deal with what happens on New York subways without any coffee in his system. Finally, he can drive his Baby to work.

"Yep," Dean says, happily content.

"Are you going to take Wings out for a spin?" Crowley asks. At Dean's pointed look, Crowley just smirks but shuts up.

Cas comes back into the living room, now dressed in a combination of Dean's closet — a bright pink feather boa in his hands, from the time Jo wanted an Elton John-themed birthday party, red sunglasses that Dean got because he really likes the Iron Man movies, a silk floral shirt from Louis Vuitton that Dean took from company storage, a pair of unbranded loose shorts, a cowboy hat from Halloween two years ago, plus a right sock. The sock is on halfway up his ankle, leaving empty space at the tip, and the glasses sit crookedly on the bridge of his nose.

Dean raises his eyebrows. "Cas, what the hell are you wearing?"

Cas dramatically ruffles the feathers on the boa and swings one end over his shoulder before turning to look at Dean over it. "It's _fashun_ , baby."

Dean laughs and shakes his head, reaching up slightly to run a hand over the cowboy hat. "Come on, sheriff, we got work to do."

"I'm your Huckleberry," Cas mumbles, sitting down cross-legged and dumping the boa on the floor beside him. Dean grins, leaning over to take the sunglasses off of his face so there's no red-tinted plastic between their gazes.

"Yeah, you are," Dean smiles, pressing a light kiss to Cas's lips and then another on his jaw. After kissing his neck twice and starting to tug at the silk shirt's top button, Cas laughs and leans away.

"Hey, we need to do work," Cas says. When Dean pouts at him, Cas points out, "Don't look at me like that. _You_ said it."

Dean groans, hand still hanging onto the shirt. "Aw, don't listen to me. I was a different man a minute ago, a worse man. I didn't know any better."

Cas laughs, kissing Dean sweetly before standing and taking one of the dresses off of the rack. Cas came over to work on some dresses from the fall collection presently in production. Cas takes them back to his own house if he doesn't intend on staying over, but for tonight, Dean's pretty happy that Cas plans to stay the night. While Cas doesn't personally work on all the pieces of a collection, there are a few that are special to him that he insists on doing himself. Only he is allowed to bring pieces home with him, though. Dean heard of a former designer who brought a piece home to finish and ended up getting fired because Kevin reported him thinking that he stole it when he couldn't find it in the workshop.

Cas puts the appliqué down in place and starts carefully sewing it in with the base fabric. Dean stops touching him then — he's not about to accidentally ruin a runway piece. He busies himself with making sure the one finished suit is still in perfect condition.

"I forgot to tell you that Sam's coming over in a couple of hours," Dean pipes up suddenly, his fingers stroking the lapel of the jacket.

"I know," Cas replies, not looking up as he puts a thread through a needle. "I'm going out with him tomorrow afternoon."

Dean turns around, surprised. "You didn't tell me that. You're booked for lunch with Nicolas Ghesquière tomorrow."

"I had that postponed, I forgot to tell you," Cas says apologetically.

Dean narrows his eyes at him, frowning. "What are you two planning?"

"Nothing!" Cas says, faking an offended look. "If there's something, Sam will tell you."

"Why not _you_?" Dean asks, pretending to be mad, but it's clear there's no actual anger there and he's only playing. 

"He's your _brother_ ," Cas shrugs, finally looking up at Dean instead of the needle with wide eyes.

Dean points out, stretching his arms out with his palms facing up, gesturing at Cas. "You're my _boyfriend_!"

Cas grins at that and it is so ridiculously easy and sunny. Something in Dean’s heart bursts, helpless and sweet. Cas asks, a smile still gracing his features with a gentleness that resonates in the way he looks at him, “What, do I have something on my face?”

 _I love you._ It's the perfect time to say it, actually. Dean's sure what he feels is true, but the words don't find a way as his throat works with nerves.

He says instead, "I'm getting my car tomorrow."

Cas's eyebrows rise at the sudden topic change but he takes it in stride, lifting the garment to continue sewing. "The Impala, right? How is she?"

Dean frowns, adjusting the jacket on its hanger. "Hopefully, still perfect. I remember I was attached to her as a kid until Dad took off with her. He's giving Baby to me as a way of apologising, I guess. Doesn't make up for shit but getting her back's a total win."

"Do you want me to come with you? I know you don't like meeting your father," Cas offers. Dean wishes Cas was always this nice but he also gets that Cas has some repressed anger and he knows that shit doesn't go away easily. It's hard enough for Dean himself sometimes. Plus, when Cas takes charge and fires off orders, it's kind of hot.

Dean waves him off, "Nah, all good. Sam's gonna be there with me. You can't keep pushing back appointments anyway." He adds teasingly in a higher-pitched voice like a woman from a 70s film, "Castiel, that Winchester is no good for you!"

Cas rolls his eyes, his whole body moving with it, and he cups his own face with his hands, sighing loudly. When he drawls, he copies Dean's 70s woman tone. “But Dean, he’s just so charming!”

Dean gasps scandalously, pressing a hand to his chest. "Castiel!"

Cas stifles a laugh and recomposes himself into a straight face, continuing the joke. "I'm sorry, Dean! But he does something to me!" When Cas pretends to hide a boner, Dean breaks and laughs, leaning back. Cas grins at him and Dean tries to stop laughing, tipping forward on his hands to be closer to Cas.

"What about me?" Dean asks, tilting his head so his lips are an inch away from Cas's. "Do _I_ do something to you?"

Cas looks like he's trying not to roll his eyes again but he says, "Dean, you do all kinds of things to me." Dean closes the space between them, kissing him softly. When Cas pulls at Dean's lower lip with his teeth, Dean readjusts himself into a more comfortable position.

Just as Dean's about to get the damn silk shirt off of Cas, a knock on the door pulls them both out of their orbit and back into reality. Dean groans as he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Cas's. "Son of a bitch. I was about to get laid."

Cas chuckles, voice a little low from the heated making out, and he stands. "I'll get the door for you."

Dean wakes up suddenly, grabbing onto Cas's hand. "Wait. It's probably Sam. And you're looking like this in my apartment."

Cas pauses, and his hand is a little cold in Dean's, but he contemplates it. Cas thinks of it this way: he's not even going to actually say anything. If he knows Sam as well as he thinks he does, Sam would ask Dean. All Cas has to do is say hello to Sam while dressed in Dean's shirt and shorts. No words needed. It's easy enough, just like with Rowena. Just as the knock comes again, Cas glances towards the door, steeling up a little. "I think I can do it."

Dean nods slowly, staring on at him, unsure, and Cas walks over to unlock the door after looking through the peephole to affirm that it's Sam. When Cas opens the door, Sam's face turns bright red when he realizes Cas's hair is messy and his top four buttons are open. He clears his throat, looking between the two of them when Dean finally comes to the doorway and asks, "Did I interrupt something?"

Dean's about to answer when Cas does it for him, flashing a smile as he says, "Nope. Welcome back to New York, Sam."

"Yeah, thanks, Cas," Sam nods, watching Cas walk back over to the abandoned garments. Once he's out of earshot, Sam puts his bags down by the door and pulls Dean into the kitchen.

"What?"

"Cas," Sam says, folding his arms and leaning against the counter, his eyes wide. "What?"

"He's my boyfriend," Dean says simply but a smile splits across his face.

Sam blinks once, then twice, then the corners of his lips turn up into a bright grin. "You shitting me?"

"I am so not shitting you, man," Dean answers.

"Dean, holy shit. I'm so happy for you," Sam says, one hand running through his own hair as his spare arm pulls Dean into a side hug. "I thought he wasn't into guys."

"Yeah, it's a secret and he's trusting you with it, so shut up. Not even Eileen can know unless he gives the green light," Dean warns. Sam nods in understanding. "Anyway, enough about me. Why are you going out with Cas tomorrow?"

Sam leans in conspiratorially, joking, "Between you and me, I was gonna ask Cas out on a date."

Dean pushes Sam's face away, making him laugh loudly. "Shut up."

"Kidding! Obviously," Sam grins. He straightens up and pulls himself together before saying seriously, a small excited smile on his face as he folds his arms. "I'm gonna ask Eileen to marry me."

It's Dean's turn to be speechless. "You shitting me?"

"So not shitting you," Sam's smile only gets wider. "Cas is gonna take me to the best ring shops so I can get the ring tomorrow."

"Holy fucking shit, Sammy," Dean says, pulling Sam into a tight hug. Sam laughs, wrapping his arms around Dean too. "This is huge."

"I know!" Sam says, letting out a nervous laugh. "I'm pretty confident she'll say yes. She's been dropping hints for a while. You know, pointing out dresses she'd like to wear at her wedding and all that. I've got the cash for a good ring."

Dean assures, "If anyone knows the best ring shops, it's Cas. You're in good hands." Sam gives him another hug, chuckling when Dean says, "My baby bro's gonna be an engaged man."

"Not a baby," Sam says, but the smile is clear even if Dean can't see it with their hug.

Cas appears at the doorway then, leaning against the frame with a grin. "You told him."

Sam holds out an arm, opening a space in the hug. "Come here, Cas." Cas laughs and walks over, letting Sam pull them into a tight hug.

It's in the evening when Dean's finally free for the day to go get the Impala from John and Sam is back from ring shopping with Cas. Sam insisted on going along, wanting to be the first one to hitch a ride in the Impala. Dean asked if he was going to tell John about his plans to propose to Eileen, but Sam decided to keep quiet about it until he's sure there is really a wedding happening.

It's not a long exchange — Dean kept it as short as he could by saying he was tired and still had work to do before tomorrow which is a complete lie; Dean finished his work for the day so he could take Baby out for a spin as soon as John handed her over. John tries to start small talk, but he doesn't get very far into any conversation until he decides to talk about Adam.

"Have you met the dad of that friend of his? Michael," John asks trivially as Dean leans into the open window to observe the interior of the car, nodding approvingly when he notes that there are no scrapes and scratches.

Sam pushes his hands into his pockets, shrugging, "Not really. We've only seen Michael. Why?"

"I don't trust him," John says flatly. "I don't think Adam should hang around a guy like that Chuck Shurley. Or Michael."

Dean asks, leaning out of the window to look over the doors, "Why? Even if Chuck's sketchy, Michael's not his dad. He's an okay guy."

"Sons are always like their fathers," John says sagely as Dean opens the boot to check.

Before Sam can say anything, Dean replies coldly, slamming the boot of the Impala shut, "I am nothing like you. Thanks for the car. Come on, Sam."

Cas walks in at 10 that morning, dressed in complete brown monochrome Valentino; a double-breasted jacket, a semi-oversized shirt, and twin pleat pants with black shoes so waxed that Dean thinks he could probably see his reflection in it. Dean himself is in a Calvin Klein charcoal-colored checkered sport coat with black pants and a turtleneck, both of which he got from a non-high end retail store for cheap. 

Once he comes in through the elevator, switching coffee cups with Dean, he starts, "Be prepared, I'll have the run-through at 12:30 today." Dean nods, checking that he already has it in the schedule as a woman runs up to him, handing him a coat from the upcoming fall collection. Cas passes it back to her, telling her how to improve on it, and turns back to Dean. "Chuck Shurley will be coming, so you either pick him up from the lobby or have Lisa Braeden send him up."

"I'll bring him up," Dean assures. "I'd never let him just run around." As much as he hated the fact, what John said about Chuck being a sketchy guy stuck with him even though he hadn't met him yet. Cas has, though, and he knows the opinion isn't high.

Cas smiles at that and continues, “Make sure all the designers and stylists are there. Get one of the photographers too, and Isaac, Kevin, Gabriel, and Rowena.”

"Yep," Dean nods again, typing it down in his laptop notes so he doesn't forget anyone. He lists to confirm, "So we have Bess, Balthazar, Meg, Inias, Gabriel, Kevin, Isaac, Chuck, a photographer, and Rowena."

"Correct," Cas affirms. "Once you remind them to be there, you may go for lunch, there isn't much else to do."

Telling everyone is easy enough. Since Gadreel isn't working at NOVAK anymore (last Dean heard, he's now a photographer for a start-up fashion magazine), Dean settles for Mirabel. They haven't really had any solid conversation and Dean thinks she doesn't like him very much but at least they're professional. Everyone else assures him that they'll be there and they'll be early, now used to how Cas always arrives at his meetings early.

It's Chuck with the problem because Dean told him to be at the NOVAK building by 12 so there's time for accommodation in case of bad traffic, but he's late, and Cas is probably on his way to the runway now. Lisa leans over the counter to look at Dean, asking, "Waiting for someone?"

"Chuck Shurley," Dean gives context. "He's late."

Lisa smiles, but it's the resigned kind as if this isn't the first time. "I'm not surprised."

At that moment, Chuck enters the NOVAK building dressed in a camellia tuxedo — navy with black satin lapel detailed with Japanese stitch embroidery finished with a single button on the jacket. He wears a white Japanese camellia shirt underneath, also embroidered.

Dean shakes his hand when they meet each other halfway across the lobby. He’s been told he’s pretty good at reading people. Maybe purely based on instinct, maybe because Dean doesn’t trust very easily. Make friends, yes. Trust is a different story. Meeting Chuck in person puts a different dimension behind Cas’s dislike for the man.

“Hi, I’m Chuck Shurley, Editor-In-Chief for Heaven Magazine,” Chuck introduces. “You’re Castiel’s P.A., right?”

“Dean,” he affirms, waving a hand to tell Chuck to follow him as they make their way to the elevator. “Okay, come on. Cas is always 15 minutes early.” 

He asks, looking a little anxious, "Which means?"

"We're already late," Dean replies, pressing the elevator button.

When the elevator doors open to the in-house runway, Chuck voices a half-assed apology, and Dean decides he doesn't like Chuck at all. Cas is clearly irritated by his late arrival but tells him to take a seat. Chuck's magazine, Heaven Magazine, is pretty renowned, and he does pieces for upcoming collections, putting photographs of finished pieces that Cas has to give consent for him to publish since the article will come out before his actual show, written teasers for pieces not shown in the article, and his review on it. It's probably why Cas isn't biting his head off for being unapologetically late, so he won't tear him apart in his article, but he also looks generally exhausted. He'd stayed up late the previous night to finish up one of the dresses so he can show it today.

"Let's get started!" Chuck says cheerily, clapping once. Meg turns away to roll her eyes.

Cas pulls out his sketches and has models, including Dorothy and Anna, walk out in some of the finished pieces to show it. Dean remains quiet for most of it, only chiming in when Cas asks his opinion as a designer and stylist. They figure out what order the pieces will be walking out during the show. Gabriel keeps to himself, staying quiet unless he has something to say. It's weird to see the talkative man so silent, but Dean has also never seen him _really_ at work before. It's a new side to him. He takes photos of the incomplete works and starts to paint corresponding makeup looks on his iPad. Bess works alongside him to figure out hair and accessories, while the designers tell him about any suggestions they have. Isaac works on measuring models and noting down any garments that need resizing while Mirabel photographs works-in-progress for the website and the complete ones for notes. Chuck takes notes, takes photos of the works and Cas's sketches. Actually, most of the people in the room take photos for reference. Kevin discusses material and production, and Rowena brainstorms marketing and advertising for the collection.

When the meeting is over and everyone disperses from the room, Chuck congratulates Cas on another great show ahead of him and leaves. Gabriel checks if Cas and he are still up for dinner on Saturday and then it's just Dean and Cas left at the runway.

"Tired?" Dean asks. joining Cas as the latter sits at the end of the stage and taking a hand in his.

"Very," Cas sighs, looking at the hung-up pieces as Dean's thumb runs over the back of his hand. Dean lifts his hand, pressing a light kiss to his knuckles, making Cas smile wearily.

"Hey, at least you'll be done sometime in the next two weeks," Dean points out. "And then it's just the runway show to plan."

"Just," Cas huffs sarcastically.

Richard Roman, nicknamed Dick by, well, _himself_ , postponed the Leviathan fall runway show by one week. It never happens — Dick keeps to his schedule so Cas thinks there's something wrong. Dean assures him it'll be fine and the two of them go to the show when the make-up date finally rolls around.

They're assigned seats in the front row, right next to the stage. Most of the guests have already arrived by the time they get there. Dean actually catches a glimpse of Gadreel with a new coworker. Nobody else from NOVAK seems to be there, except for one of the writers, Hester, who Dean remembers to be Inias's insufferable older sister.

Dean and Cas busy themselves with a conversation about Sam and Eileen until the lights dim and Dick Roman walks out to give a speech about the collection. He talks about how hard he and his people worked on the collection and that 'many things' inspire him. Despite the vague explanation of the 'many things', he somehow manages to bullshit a solid speech. Dean thinks Dick must really like the sound of his voice. Cas is still and silent beside him but Dean knows he's annoyed and just wants him to hurry up and start the show.

"Without further ado, here is Leviathan's fall collection, 2015," Dick Roman says, smiling warmly but with a professional tone to it. Everyone claps but them and a few other designers who aren't fans of him but are there to keep up appearances like Cas. He steps off the stage to backstage and then the music starts to play, bass drumming deep in Dean's chest as the animations kick in on the screen-stage.

"That cut is awful," Cas says as soon as the first model walks out. Dean frowns as he stares, about to agree, until both he and Cas's faces pale on their double-take when the model takes two more steps. Cas barely whispers, "What the fuck?"

Dean could recognize that dress in his sleep with all the nights he's worked overtime to help Cas with the collection. Cas decided to go for a darker colour palette than he normally worked with and most of the pieces in the collection were going to be black with bits of bright colours. The first dress to walk out is black with pirate sleeves and the fabric tied into a big bow at the neckline. The bottom of the dress travelling up one side and over the sleeves and chest are pink, white, and red flowers. It's one of Dean's favourite pieces from the collection, one of the ones Cas spent the most time perfecting late into the night, one of the pieces he insisted on doing himself.

It's Cas's dress, completed, walking down Leviathan's runway. Dean knows the real dress is only halfway completed, sitting in his apartment along with three other pieces Cas specifically wanted to work on personally. Yet here it is, in a less than acceptable imitation of it.

“Cas... That’s yours,” Dean says uselessly. His mind feels empty, for lack of knowing how to handle it because he can feel the anger flaring up in Cas like a ticking time bomb.

"That fucking asshole," Cas says thickly, staring horrifically as the first model disappears behind the curtain for the next to come out — a long brown coat of satin with a wide hood settles elegantly over a navy shirt, white pants with gold buttons down the side, complete with red boots. This piece is about 3/4 done, sitting in the NOVAK workshop.

"Do you want to leave?" Dean asks carefully. Though he may be going to therapy, Dean knows it's not a fast process and that means Cas's fuse will still be short.

"No," Cas mutters, willing himself to sit through the rest of the show, watching his designs come out in slipshod handiwork that he quickly realizes means the one week of postponing was for Dick Roman's team to put together the collection with overtime. It's difficult, but possible with the right people, especially since they only managed to come up with 10 of the outfits from Cas's 30 outfit collection.

Dean's leg bounces in its place as each design walks out. It just doesn't help that the workmanship is so botched because Cas fucking loves impeccable work which is why he does the most intricate pieces himself. By the time the collection's done walking and the first model comes back out again, Dean knows Cas's brain has fizzled out when he grabs his hand and rushes out of the hall.

"In and out with me, come on," Dean says once they're out in the hallway. Since everyone's inside (most importantly, all the reporters and camerapeople are inside), Dean has no hesitation when he cradles Cas's face in his hands. "Breathe, babe." Cas follows Dean, his eyes focused solely on him as they breathe in unison. Dean gives him a small smile. "Better?"

"As better as I could get with that going on." Cas exhales sharply and Dean's hands fall away to hold his. "I can't believe this shit."

Dean asks, "Who do you think leaked it?"

"I don't know." Cas breaks away from Dean to pace in thought until he decides, "Call everyone who was at the conference last week. Don't bother with Chuck first, keep it to NOVAK employees only. No use getting this to a magazine writer if it's an internal problem, he'll just write a tabloid-worthy article on it. Tell them to meet me in my office in two hours."

Dean glances at his watch before he points out, "It'll be 10 by then, everyone would be home by now."

"And I just had 10 of my designs stolen," Cas says snippily. "Your point?" Cas instantly cringes and runs a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to snap, I'm just..."

"It's fine," Dean waves him off. If the roles were reversed, Dean would probably have been screaming bloody murder in the hall. Cas was handling this far better than Dean thought he would. Then again, Cas's 'screaming blood murder' would probably happen later on in his office. "Look, I'll make the calls, okay? And I'll get the car."

The chauffeur can't make it to the Leviathan show as early as Dean would like but Gabriel thankfully offers to pick them up since it's on the way to the NOVAK building. Gabriel seems just as livid about the situation when Dean explains it over the phone, asking if Cas is combusting. When Gabriel arrives and Cas and Dean get into his car, Gabriel's rambling on and on about how he would never sell his little brother's designs and going off on his own hypotheses on who would — his guess was Meg.

By the time Cas, Dean, and Gabriel reach his office, everyone else is there. Some, like Kevin and Bess, are in casual wear, probably already getting ready for bed when they got the call from Dean. Dean felt bad about it but it fades in view of the bigger picture.

"What happened?" Inias asks once Cas sets his bag down on his chair.

"Someone sold my designs to Dick Roman and I'm giving you five minutes to admit it," Cas says lowly, sitting down at his desk. Dean stands behind him, trying to see if he can guess who it is. Everyone starts looking at each other with wide eyes, even Meg and Inias who were considerably detached compared to everyone else in the room.

"I would never do that to you, bro. You know I wouldn't," Gabriel says. Cas nods in complete faith in his brother.

Kevin shakes his head, waving his hands in denial, "I couldn't. Mr Novak, it may not seem like it but I like working for you even though you scare the shit out of me. I would never do something that could get me fired from here."

Rowena, Inias, Isaac, Mirabel, and Bess deny it too after that, and Balthazar sighs, "Cassie, you're a close friend of mine. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I'd feel too bad."

Meg says, for once sounding not at all condescending or sarcastic, "As Kev said, I like working for you. I wouldn't sell your designs. I mean, Bal and I worked on a few of those too. Why would I sell them?"

In the end, it comes back down to square one and Cas is at the end of his nerves for the night. Dean says what everyone is thinking, "Chuck sold them to him." Dean rests a grounding hand on Cas's shoulder and Cas closes his eyes, drawing in a calming breath.

Once he exhales, Cas requests, "Dean, is Sam available to stay a while longer in New York?"

"I don't know, I'd have to ask him. Why?" Dean asks, and the rest stare at Cas in question.

"I want legal action and I want the best lawyer I know," Cas says simply.


	12. tu me rends heureuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a law student and I've only studied computer crime law, studied being a very loose term for it, so I apologize if the law part of this isn't very accurate. I tried to use my limited knowledge to figure it out.

_Anyone can get dressed up and glamorous, but it is how people dress in their days off that are the most intriguing._   
**Alexander Wang**

**1994**

Dean sneaks down the stairs of the dark house, making sure to step right over the one that creaked. Everyone else is asleep, even Sam, and Dean won't risk waking him up. It's hard enough getting a 3-year-old to get to rest and even harder to keep him asleep. It's his eighth birthday, his first birthday since moving into Bobby's. Dean didn't count his seventh birthday since it was the day itself that he and Sam were taken in by Bobby and his family.

Now, he's 8, and it's a little past midnight. Jo's probably still awake, honestly. She didn't like sleeping early, just like Dean. But he's also not eager for her to know why he was creeping downstairs this late at night.

He picks up the phone and carefully punches in the digits that he'd memorized by heart. As the phone beeps, trying to connect the call, Dean bites his lip and tangles his fingers in the cord, waiting. Finally, there's a click, and Dean perks up, heart accelerating just a little bit with excitement.

“ _Sorry, the number you have dialled has been disconnected_ —“

Dean hurriedly hangs the phone back onto the switch hook like it burned his hand. John's number has been disconnected. It can't be, Dean called it just nine days ago and it'd gone to voicemail. It can't just be _disconnected_.

Dean is a hollow shell for the rest of the day, from when he pretends to wake up later in the day for school, to when he comes home. Sam's obviously too young to have any sense of if Dean's out of it or not, but he does insist on hugging Dean. Maybe Sam's psychic or something. Jo notices. She always notices, but she just offers him a hug and doesn't try asking what the problem was. She probably already knew, or just didn't want to remind him about it.

Dean thinks he'll make it through the rest of the day just fine without losing it until Bobby and Jo walk out of the kitchen, a pie in his hands with steam rising and its aroma wafting through the air. Ellen walks behind them, carrying young Sammy in her arms. The exact moment Sam says a muffled 'happy birthday, Dean', Dean breaks and cries.

Bobby puts down the pie and rushes over, asking him what's wrong. Sam reaches a tiny hand out to Dean and Ellen brings him closer. When he's in touching distance, Sam's hand brushes across Dean's hair, and he mumbles, "Don't cry."

"Dean?" Jo asks tentatively as Ellen sits on Dean's other side, rubbing comforting circles on his back as Sam tries to grab Dean's hands. "Are you okay?"

He weeps, "I just want my dad."

Later that night, it's the first time Dean's heard the phrase "son of a bitch". He wasn't even meant to hear it; he was going to say goodnight to Ellen and Bobby when he heard them talking about John in their room. Bobby said he was a son of a bitch who couldn't even call his son to say happy birthday. He tells Ellen that John should have visited and that he at least owed a call. He says he's going to take Dean out to the arcade tomorrow to get his mind off of John. Ellen says nothing, but after a year of being in her care, Dean knows when her silence is one of agreement.

Bobby takes him to the arcade the next morning since it's a weekend, and they have pizza for lunch. Bobby tells him that the pizza is a secret between them and not to tell Ellen, which makes Dean laugh as he promises he won't. That's also the afternoon that Dean met Lee Webb and befriended him.

More importantly, it's also the day that Dean trashed the note with John's phone number on it. At 8 years and 1 day old, Dean promised not to hang the rest of his life on John, or any person who wouldn't give him the time of day.

Dean is also a walking contradiction; while he no longer wants to take shit from people, he also thought that he deserved it. It sticks with him until he's all grown up, and it continues to stick with him then. It makes him feel like shit, and he never wants Sam to feel like this. He spends Sam's entire childhood convincing him that he's worth everything in the universe and that he is loved by many, and that he _deserves_ it.

When Adam comes along in 2015, Dean's apprehensive at first because John actually did his job, and he sees everything he could have been in Adam — confident, at ease, not self-derogatory in any way... Sure of himself, secure in his being, stable, content, satisfied. He'd been jealous but now that he knows Adam, has spent time with him, he loves him as if he grew up with him too. He wanted to be there for him too, the way he'd always been for Sam. The responsibility of an older brother.

And with Michael, Dean wanted to be supportive. Even if the two aren't all chummy, they were still on fairly alright terms. They didn't hate each other and he seems to really care about Adam, so Dean's fine.

Today, Cas has decided to take legal action against Michael's father for selling his work to Dick Roman and on Dick himself for stealing said sold work. Michael is not fine with it.

When Cas is busy with a last-minute meet-up with Bela (who heard about what happened from Meg and asked Cas to meet her as soon as possible to discuss it), Dean agrees to meet Adam and Michael at the café down the street. By the time Dean walks in, he spots them -- Adam is drinking a cup of coffee, scrolling through his phone, and Michael looks like he's got a bomb strapped to his chest ready to go off any minute.

Dean sits down across from them in the booth. "Hey."

Michael starts, "You can't sue my father."

Dean smacks one hand on the table — not loudly in anger, just in exasperation and resignation — and says, "Alright, I'm leaving. Good talk."

"Wait, I don't mean it like that," Michael quickly adds after Adam gives him a sharp jab into his side. "Please hear me out." Dean eyes him but settles back down and Michael takes it as his cue to continue. "If Castiel takes this to court, it will be all over the tabloids. I know you think it's a good thing but it could go both ways. People, not so intelligent people, could pin Leviathan's poor replications on NOVAK and tear him apart. I'm sure the originals are fantastic but incomplete unseen works compared to replicas already seen on a runway? Dean, the public doesn't know Leviathan rushed the collection in a week. They'll think this is what Castiel's work is supposed to look like and he'll catch flack for it. Not all, but enough. It won't matter what the legal decision is."

Adam remains silent as Michael speaks. It's an odd arrangement, it's normally the other way around; Michael being completely quiet while Adam keeps conversation up. Obviously, because he doesn't know anything about fashion and thinks it's best if he just lets Michael talk. At least he had some knowledge about it through Chuck. Dean listens.

Michael says, "Don't take it to court yet. You could get my father and Dick Roman into a meeting with their lawyers, discuss what to do. If they don't cooperate, then go ahead. It's for Castiel's reputation's sake. I know my father, and I know he has no qualms about pinning the bad work on Castiel or even just trying to make it seem like Castiel stole it from Roman. I implore you to think about my suggestion. Keep it a private matter first. If you take it to court, everyone will know and a million things can go wrong."

Dean hates to admit it but he can see Michael's point. There's always going to be people who didn't know the full story who will act as if they do. Plus, Heaven Magazine and Leviathan's fans will go after Cas if he bashes them.

Adam finally speaks up to ask, "Is he hiring Sam or someone else?"

"Sam said he could stay for a few days extra if he has to," Dean answers. He's probably too busy with open cases back at Stanford and with his impending proposal to stay for a full case, but enough to stay to do what Michael suggested. "I'll bring your concerns to Cas, okay?"

"Thank you, Dean," Michael replies.

Dean asks, "You don't think your dad deserves to go to court for this?"

Michael frowns, "I am unsure. I know what lengths he is willing to go to paint himself as a great man, but I also know he isn't a good one... Needless to say, I am aware that he was wrong for selling Castiel's designs to Roman, and I apologise on behalf of his behaviour."

Both Dean and Adam's eyebrows rise in surprise, staring at Michael. Adam says, mesmerized, "You got him to apologise. That shit is _not_ easy. He doesn't even apologise if he eats the last cookie." Michael rolls his eyes, but he takes one of Adam's hands into his own and runs a thumb over his knuckles wordlessly. Adam smiles easily and adds, "Thanks for hearing him out, Dean."

With the conversation with Michael and Adam in mind, Dean went back to work to see that Sam is there in Cas's office in a black three-piece suit, probably something cheap like Amazon. Cas is nowhere to be seen, but Sam has a few documents in his hands. He looks up at the sound of Dean's shoes on the floor and smiles, "Hey, Dean. Cas is talking to Rowena and Pamela but he should be back in a while."

Dean nods, taking off his Zegna blazer, leaving only a brown polo shirt and trousers. “Sam, I gotta talk to you. I know I’m not a law guy, but...”

Sam catches his drift and starts rambling, "I know what you're gonna say and believe me, I've been thinking about it since Cas asked me. I even talked to his PR, Pamela. That's why he's with Rowena and her right now. Also, Cas's work, while he's got proof he's got them before Roman, it's also not registered because it's just rough sketches, but it _is_ copyrighted since he already started work on it before Roman. If this ever went to court and we asked for Chuck and Roman's documents, we'd find the photos he took of Cas's sketches. He'd be fine, probably pull a good fee from both of them. Most plagiarism cases don't go to court, so Pamela's talking to him right now about keeping it within the involved parties and sending a cease and desist."

Dean sits down next to him. "Sounds good. Michael was saying it'll hurt his rep with the dumbasses."

Sam stretches, putting the papers down on Cas's desk as he says, "He's not wrong from that social standpoint. And —"

Cas comes in then, bringing an air of rushed energy with him. Today, he wears another womenswear brand, BCBGMAXAZRIA, a stucco-coloured trench coat that looks like polyester and spandex satin. His gaze falls on the brothers and he eases up slightly, walking to sit across from them at his desk. "Talk to me, Sam."

"I was about to say that if he somehow sold any of your pieces that walked his runway that night, you could get a lot of money depending on how much he got for it," Sam tells him. "I can contact his lawyer, find out if he did anything with those pieces. I'm sure Pamela talked to you, so just to summarize, he and Chuck would probably want to keep this quiet to keep their reputation intact. Chances are, Roman will pay to buy the ownership of the designs from you, and Chuck might pay money to make sure him selling your work doesn't get out there."

"I'm not selling it," Cas says instantly.

"I know you won't. The other thing is the cease and desist, you know, get him to cancel the collection, not sell or loan the pieces. Get him and Chuck to pay for using your work uncredited," Sam says. "Plagiarism's big but I don't think anyone involved wants to take this to court. I don't think you do either."

"That's true... the man who's so careless with his private works that he got 10 of them stolen," Cas says lowly, pressing his palms together in thought. "They'd probably be willing to do more to keep this an internal issue."

Sam nods, "Precisely. I'll draft up the letter if you're alright with this plan."

Cas leans back in his chair, exhaling lightly. "Draft it, please. Thank you, Sam. I know I could have asked one of NOVAK's lawyers but I wanted someone I could trust to do this."

Sam gives him a quick smile, standing. "Hey, no worries. Think of it as thanks for going ring shopping with me. They'll probably respond really quickly so they can settle it before someone else finds out. It should be over soon. I'll see you at your place, Dean."

"See ya." Dean waves and Sam leaves the office, already taking out his phone. Dean turns back to look at Cas and says, "God. I'm having a headache just from hearing all that."

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain," Cas says with a straight face.

Dean's eyes widen slightly. "Oh, shit. I didn't think it would bother you. Sorry —"

"I'm kidding," Cas quickly says, smiling slightly. "It gets everyone every time."

"You son of a — don't do that," Dean sighs, but he's smiling too. "You're taking this pretty well."

"Now that the legal part of it is somewhat sorted, it does make it seem much better. Closer to resolve. There's no way they can win anyway. I've got enough people to testify that I had all this before them and that they stole it."

Dean nods, looking around to make sure nobody is peering through into the office before taking Cas's hand across the table. "You deserve a win."

"You are my win," Cas says, giving Dean such a lovely look that he's embarrassed to admit makes him a little weak.

Cas is invited to a private showroom for Max Mara's upcoming fall collection and he's not allowed to bring plus ones because of how _private_ it is, strictly recognizable stylists and fashion icons. Cas is apologetic when he leaves for the show, promising to see him later, so Dean doesn't really have any work to do until Cas comes back. He still goes to work instead of staying at home with Sam, mainly because Sam's now at the stage where he's constantly on calls with Roman and Chuck's lawyers and Dean's kind of tired with all the law business. There's a reason why he didn't do law.

Instead, Charlie insists on taking Dean out to a non-private showroom for Canali. It's a little odd because Canali is a menswear brand, but Charlie says that she hasn't been to a showroom in a while and wanted to take some friends out to visit one. Friends meaning Dean, and Missouri, mostly because everyone else who would be interested is busy with fall collections of their respective brands.

Charlie wears an Oscar de la Renta outfit, a sleeveless navy gold chain-embroidered chiffon blouse with matching pants, hammered hoop earrings, and ruby asymmetric sandals. Missouri has a Jibri swing coat on, gold hoop earrings, black suede ankle boots by Manolo Blahnik and a simple black dress. Dean went with an outfit that he’ll return to the storage closet once he’s done and cleaned it, full YSL; a tailored jacket with a notched lapel and pants, both in Jardin noir jacquard, a white cotton poplin shirt, a short silk scarf, and tortoiseshell oxfords.

Charlie drags Missouri over to look at a brown suit with button detailing while Dean busies himself with one of the looks, a grey velvet coat with a darker grey suit underneath. It’s a simple look, but classic, and Dean wonders if Cas would buy it. He’d look good.

It’s then when a man walks up to him. “Good afternoon, I’m Mick Davies. Designer for Canali,” the man introduces with a polite smile and a British accent.

“Dean Winchester,” Dean returns, shaking his hand. “From NOVAK.”

“I know, you have quite the reputation on Twitter,” Mick says, waving his phone slightly. “You’re pretty popular.”

“I didn’t know people cared about P.As from other brands,” Dean says, grinning.

Mick shrugs, putting his phone back into his pocket, “We keep up, we like to see the trends. You were trending a while back for your Fashion Week outfits. Did you pick those?”

“Castiel did,” Dean clarifies. “Mostly because I didn’t have money to get Fashion Week-worthy outfits then.”

“Fashion does blow an intimidating hole in your wallet, doesn’t it?” Mick smiles. “I’m wondering something. If you’re Novak’s P.A, then why are you here and he isn’t?”

Dean answers, “He’s at a private Max Mara show. No plus-ones, not even P.As, so I’m here.” Mick nods and looks around, frowning at a man who just walked in. Dean raises an eyebrow, “Who’s that?”

“Zachariah Adler. He’s a designer at D&G. Think of him as the human embodiment of gum stuck under your shoe,” Mick says, clear distaste on his face. “Word of advice: Stay away from him. His condescension would kill you.”

“Jesus, okay,” Dean replies, staring at Zachariah. He’s a short bald man and his expression is close to a sneer when he looks over one of the outfits. No wonder Mick doesn’t like the guy, he might as well spit on his work with the dirty looks he gives them. His suit is acceptable at best, but it wouldn’t hurt to put it through another round of ironing before he stepped out of the house. He vaguely reminds Dean of one of John’s friends when he was a kid, a man whose only bragging right is getting promoted at the DMV. Lame.

Mick says, "If you need me, I'll be around, or you can talk to the other designer here, Arthur Ketch." He points to another man who looks just as full of himself as Zachariah does, talking to a man with a notebook. With that, Mick walks away to talk to Charlie and Missouri. The door swings open when Dean looks over another outfit to marvel at the detailing until the man stands next to Dean.

Dean doesn't bother looking to see who it is until he says, "We don't need to make a big deal of what happened."

Dean turns and instantly recoils in distaste. "Roman."

Dick Roman smiles — it's unsettling and full of plastic professionalism, but a thin veil of arrogance rests over it. "You know me and I know you. Now that we have that out of the way... Let's talk about the cease and desist your brother sent. I assume he's your brother. Winchesters."

"Brother," Dean affirms, taking a step back to put some distance between them. He makes him almost as uncomfortable as Lucian Morningstar did. "Look, if you want to discuss this, I'm Castiel's P.A. Not him. I can arrange a meeting with him for you."

"Winchester, I skipped the Max Mara show because I was told you would be here," Dick says, walking to the next outfit. Dean follows, apprehensive. Dick continues, "Chuck Shurley and I have come to a conclusion regarding the cease and desist."

Dean frowns, "I still don't know why you don't want to tell this directly to Castiel."

"Because we heard from Morningstar that you're kind of like his guard dog," Dick says, patronizing tone irritating to Dean's ears. "Thought you'd like it if I checked with you first."

Dean rolls his eyes and takes out his phone to key in an appointment, "I'll arrange a meeting."

"I'll drop the collection. Payments will be refunded, pieces won't be sold," Dick cuts in, making Dean pause.

Dean asks suspiciously, "What's the catch?"

Dick circles him, not that far from the way a predator circles its prey, and says, "I like your drive, kid. How about you work for me?"

" _What_?" Dean splutters.

Dick mutters, clearly running out of patience now, "I think you're a good worker. Overprotective pet of Castiel, yes, but a good worker. Everyone knows that. It's the first thing people know about you in the fashion industry. The design graduate who got a P.A. job for the CEO of NOVAK. That's not easy." He touches the fabric of the outfit in front of him, caressing it between his thumb and index finger, and Dean sees Arthur Ketch look over with narrowed eyes, though he doesn't say anything. Probably because of how Dick Roman is way out of his jurisdiction. "And nobody in fashion is out of touch with what's trending. I know you could end me and Shurley with all those followers of yours if you really tried. I'd be impressed. But why go through all that drama? We can keep it simple. I'll have the copies destroyed, never seen again, the collection will be forgotten. You come to work for me."

"I'm not gonna quit my fucking job," Dean says, appalled.

"Think about it," Dick smiles. "I'll take that meeting with him too."

Once Dick leaves the showroom, Charlie and Missouri come back to him, questioning looks on their faces. Missouri asks, "What was Mr Roman doing talking to you?"

"Bullshit, that's what," Dean says, glaring at the door where Dick left from. "I'm sorry, you two. I gotta bail."

Charlie pouts but nods in understanding, "It's okay. But you're going shopping with us this weekend."

"Promise," Dean says, pressing a quick kiss to both their foreheads before walking out to call Cas.

Cas comes back to the office close to 5 in the afternoon, in the fourth look of Angel Chen's 2015 Fall/Winter collection, a white button-up under a vest with various cloths and matching red checkered pants and jacket with patches of black and white checkered pieces. The jacket is draped over his shoulders as opposed to being properly worn. He puts Dean's coffee down on his desk and takes his own from Dean's hand, saying, "Grab a pen." Once Dean is ready, he starts talking, "Call Bela and confirm dinner tomorrow. Call Metatron Scribe, tell him I don't approve of the piece on me that he wanted to publish. Remind Crowley that I'll see him later today. Send the two interns in the lobby to conference room 4 now."

Dean nods, scribbling it all down in his planner as fast as he can, leaving out the part about the interns since he'll be doing it after Cas lets him go. He says, still writing, "Dick Roman wants a meeting with you."

Cas pauses, touching Dean's hand gently to stop him from writing as he reconsiders. He remedies, "Call Crowley, invite him to dinner with me and Bela tomorrow. Tell Dick Roman that I'll see him at 7 tonight. If he's not free, tell him I'll take it to court. Bring up the interns." Cas lets Dean's hand go and leaves his office to wait for the interns in the conference room and Dean walks to the elevator, shooting Crowley a text to tell him about the change in plans. Crowley replies with a simple 'OK', so Dean leaves it at that. On the way down, he manages to call Bela and resolves to call Metatron after he's brought the interns to Cas.

He wonders if Dick will tell Cas about how he tried to poach Dean. He wonders if he would lie about Dean rejecting it.

He finds the two interns talking, Kaia Neeves and Krissy Chambers. They're dressed like how fashionable teenagers dress — nothing expensive except maybe their Doc Martens boots, but good enough for small wallets. He waves them over and they follow him to the elevator. Once inside, Kaia asks, "Are you Dean Winchester?"

"Yep," Dean answers. Is his Twitter really that popular? He hasn't checked it in a while. Maybe it blew up after people realized Cas was following him.

"We love your Twitter," Krissy grins. "You always dress so awesomely. Are you wearing YSL?"

"Yep," Dean echoes. "So you kids like NOVAK, huh?"

The two of them proceed to tell him about how Cas is an inspiration to them and that his work with LGBT foundations means a lot to them, especially Kaia since she has a girlfriend, some girl called Claire Mills. They talk about how impeccable his work is and how working there would be a dream come true even if it's only an internship. They hoped the internship would become full-time work. Dean sends them off to Cas wishing them good luck and he goes to call Metatron.

When Metatron picks up, Dean instantly decides that he doesn't like him. Metatron's voice somehow toes the line between whiny and smug as he complains about Cas being unable to appreciate true literature. Dean asks him what the article was about. Metatron says it's going to be a headliner for Cosmopolitan magazine, about how Cas and Dean might be secretly dating. Dean laughs in his face for the balls he has to tell them about the article, then he says if he sees the article go into print in the next issue of Cosmopolitan, Dean will make sure he eats every page about the article from every copy of the issue.

Afterwards, he calls Dick Roman, who readily agrees and says Chuck will come along. When 7 rolls around, the Leviathan CEO and creative director of Heaven magazine walk in. For once, Dean agrees with John. Chuck's a son of a bitch.

He doesn't sit in for the meeting and waits at his desk outside of Cas's office. When it hits 7:30, Dean is sent to pick up two lawyers and bring them to the office. When it's a little over 7:45, Sam goes into Cas's office, leaving Dean with a 'wish me luck' expression, crossing his fingers before he disappears behind the door.

Kevin and Charlie come to keep him company and he tells them about what happened at the Canali showroom, which makes Charlie want to storm into the office and throw Dick Roman off the building for even thinking about "taking my Dean away from me". _God_ , he loves Charlie.

Eventually, Charlie and Kevin have to get back to work and Dean listens to some Led Zeppelin to get his mind off of the meeting happening next to him. What he'd give to be a fly in that room.

When it's almost 10 PM, Dick Roman and Chuck Shurley walk out with their lawyers, followed by Sam who gestures to Dean to come in. Dean goes in, almost exploding with anticipation, "So, how did it go?"

Sam says, half-impressed, half-faux horrified, "Cas told them that if Dick refuses to take the collection down, cease orders and if they both refuse to pay him, he'll bring the story to every magazine and take it to court, making it as public as possible, and tearing down Leviathan and Heaven magazine to their last atoms until they lose their audience for stealing and wrongfully selling designs... Then when they're desperate for business, he'll buy their companies and fire them."

"You were gonna destroy their lives?" Dean asks, eyes wide.

Cas shrugs. "I tried everything else."

"And it worked. God, you should have seen their faces, man. I wish I could have taken a picture," Sam grins. "I don't know where they even picked these lawyers up, they're practically kids. They were gonna shit their pants, I swear. Cas scared the hell out of them."

"That's so sexy," Dean smiles lopsidedly at Cas, and a light red touches the apple of Cas's cheeks.

"Cas will be getting paid big time, and Leviathan has to say the collection isn't official, take it back," Sam lists. "Cas won."

Cas invites Dean to sleep over at his place two days later. _I've finally cleaned things up there_ , he explains. Dean readily agrees — at least Sam's back in Stanford already and he doesn't have to worry about all that law business anymore. 

Cas lives around 35th Avenue in a two-bedroom apartment. Obviously not as cheap as other apartments, and it's way more spacious than Dean's. It's immaculate, which is predictable enough for someone like Cas. The colour palette is mostly monochrome with white, grey, and black. There are little traces of Cas in what's obviously an architect-designed home, like his books, racks of clothes, unfinished personal pieces, pieces from work, and pieces that aren't from his own label. It's a nice home. Dean liked keeping his place clean — John's never been a stickler for cleaning and ever since Mary's death, he didn't even try. Bobby, Ellen, and Jo are better than John in that department, but they're also not the neatest people around. Dean thinks it offers a sense of stability like a home is neat because he'll be staying there longer and therefore has to put in the effort.

He jokes, "I thought you'd get a bigger place."

Cas locks the door and shrugs off his jacket, putting it on the coat hanger. "Too much space. I don't like the reminder of being alone."

"Then why not get Gabe to live with you?" Dean asks, walking over to the window to look out at the city underneath. It's a beautiful sight, the city this late at night. Red and white lines skating the dark road as people go across the city, lights flickering on and off in the countless buildings.

"Gabriel's life and mine don't mesh very well," Cas replies, pouring two glasses of water. "He likes to bring people home often which I have no problem with, obviously. But I have very expensive pieces here and I don't like it when people I don't know stay overnight in my home."

"Is that why you didn't want to let me come over?"

"I know you well, you would have been allowed over if my house wasn't so messy before," Cas denies. "And even if it was otherwise... You're different." Cas says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, passing Dean one of the glasses.

At some point, Sam calls Dean and he puts him on speaker after Sam asks him to do so if Cas is there. Once he's on speaker, Sam's voice comes through, excited and shaky as if he'd just recovered from crying, "She said yes."

"Sam, holy shit!" Dean laughs, ecstatic, and Cas grins so wide as he gives his congratulations. Dean kind of cries a little bit because his little brother's all grown up now and Sam just told him that he's obviously going to be his best man.

Dean cries a little bit harder when Sam says, giddy grin obvious in his voice, "Eileen and I would be honoured if we could wear clothes you designed for our wedding."

"Really?" Dean asks, unbelieving. "You cannot shit me right now. I've wanted to do that since I knew how in love with her you were."

"I am not shitting you, man. We really want you to design them," Sam laughs. "Will you?"

Cas gives Dean a hug as he promises that he will, and they spend the next hour on the phone with Sam talking about the proposal and Eileen crying about it until Sam has to go for the night. Dean can't stop smiling for the rest of the night until they find their way to Cas's room.

Most of Cas's house is exactly how the interior designer did it up except for his bedroom, which is more Cas than any other part of the apartment. Cloths, sewing machine, sketches sprawled across the desk and pinned on a corkboard hung above it. Printed photos and Polaroids of him, Gabriel, and Anna as kids, him with his friends. There's even one of him and Dean pinned near the centre of it all, a group selfie Bradley Cooper took with them in the limousine on the way to Dean's first award show.

Dean grazes it with his fingers, a gentle smile touching his lips. "You printed that?"

"I really liked you," Cas says as a way of explanation and Dean kisses him until they stumble back onto Cas's bed, laughing against each other. He can't be any happier than right now. Everything was right.

Dean doesn't spend the night in the guest room. After going way past making out in Cas's bed, Dean had been too exhausted to go, and honestly, neither of them wanted to sleep in separate rooms anyway. It just didn't make sense, being boyfriends and all. Dean wears one of Cas's oversized shirts and a pair of Louis Vuitton pyjama trousers and Cas wears a shirt and shorts, both of which Dean didn't get a good look at before he clocked out.

When he wakes up in the morning, he opens his eyes blearily to adjust to the sight of Cas sleeping next to him. No matter how many times Cas has slept with Dean, the way he looks so innocent, free, and beautiful in his sleep just takes Dean's breath away every time. Dean can't help but smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose and he shifts, about to get cleaned up. He's still blurry with sleep and he ends up falling off the side of the bed. He quickly looks over to see if he's woken Cas up.

His vision clears up and Jesus, through the crack in the curtain, Cas is painted in soft, warm shades by the autumn sun, smiling softly as his white linen sheets have been halfway kicked off the bed in their slumber. He's wearing the ugliest _Rugrats_ shirt ever, yet he looks like an angel.

Cas stirs and he smiles, running an unconscious hand through his messy hair. "Good morning."

And now he knows what love feels like.

Something clicks in him, something sweet and lovely and kind, the way sunlight kisses Cas's skin in his sleep, and he feels it. Everything about Cas was intoxicating, exhilarating, and fascinating, but never satisfying... because Dean could never get enough of him.

Dean moves to the kitchen after cleaning up, and the revelation leaves him buzzing. He decides to cook Cas breakfast — thank God it's Sunday, at least they don't have to rush to work. While mixing up pancake batter, Dean calls Sam who picks up after three rings.

"Hey, man. What's up?"

"You know how sometimes you’ll look at someone and there’ll be that one thing that makes you fall in love with them right then?" Dean asks.

He can hear the off-guard tone in Sam's voice when he says, confused, "Yeah?"

"I fell out of bed today and I looked over at Cas, see if I woke him up. I did, and he turns over and looks at me. Then he smiles, his hair’s sticking up and his voice wasn’t so deep and it’s kinda blurry when he said ‘good morning’. And I stood there and just... looked at him," Dean continues, a smile growing on his face as he carefully drips batter onto a pan.

"And?"

"And I was thinking, holy shit, I’m in love with this angel," Dean answers, and his heart is full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas's house is a real place, except that it was built in 2020 and this story takes place in 2015 at the moment.  
> Here it is if you want to have a look: https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/134-37-35th-Ave-8L-Flushing-NY-11354/2084832819_zpid/


	13. êtes-vous prêt?

_Without elegance of the heart, there is no elegance._   
**Yves Saint Laurent**

**1990**

"Sing me something else."

"What, you don't like _Hey Jude_?" Mary asks as Dean snuggles up against her. Baby Sammy's in his room, where the space-themed mobile John worked on for a week is finished and probably spinning above his crib.

Dean pouts, spreading his arms out wide, "There are so many other songs and you only ever sing that one. I want a different one."

"Okay, I'll choose something that isn't the Beatles," Mary nods, smiling as she looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I do like Led Zepp, but maybe something different. Steppenwolf?"

"Okay," Dean agrees, making himself comfortable in his bed as Mary runs gentle fingers through his short hair.

" _Your eyes are moist, you scream and shout, as though you were a man possessed. From deep inside comes rushing forth all the anguish you suppressed_ ," Mary sings as Dean pulls the blanket up to his chin, letting his eyes slide shut as he listens to her voice. " _Up on your wall hangs your degree your parents craved so much for you. And though you're trained to make your mark, you still don't quite know what to do._ "

" _It's never too late to start all over again_ ," Dean sings along lazily, words muffled by his blanket, making Mary smile.

" _To love the people you caused the pain and help them learn your name_ ," Mary joins, happily swaying along with the music as her arm hangs over Dean's shoulder. " _Oh, no, not too late. It's never too late to start all over again._ "

John watches from the doorway, arms cradling Sam like he's the most fragile thing on Earth; he's so tiny, born just months before, and Dean already loved his brother so much. John hums along and Sam stirs, sounding off baby babble as Dean and Mary sing _It's Never Too Late_ by Steppenwolf.

It's one of Dean's best memories. Back when Mary was still there, and Sam had been oblivious to everything poisonous in the world, and John hadn't left them behind. Back when things were different and good.

The jacket he made for Mary started production when he was 10, and he'd had enough of waiting for John to get his shit together but was still trying to protect the image of a good father in Sam's mind. He finished it when he was 13 and it has been in his closet ever since, even in his wardrobe in New York City.

Though it's been over 25 years since her death, Dean can't seem to move on or even begin with healing. The jacket, though made with love in a grand gesture of honouring her memory, now seems mocking in his closet. He wonders what John would think, what Mary would think. Most of all, he just wants to finally move on.

Cas comes in at 9:30 in a black turtleneck and jeans, plus his Prada coat, with Dean’s coffee. He switches cups with Dean and says, “I’ve been a little out of it, I accidentally ordered my regular order for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

Dean grins, making grabby hands at the coffee. “I like your order. I buy it a lot in my downtime.” Cas hands it over, easily switching cups with Dean. Dean doesn't say it out loud and neither does Cas, but he knows they both like the way this had become routine so quickly and stuck.

Cas raises an eyebrow and questions, “Why just your downtime?”

“If you found out I like your order, you’d probably laugh at me,” Dean replies, taking a long sip from his cup. Cas's order may be a pain in the ass, but it's too fucking good. He once had a barista, Patience, who asked him if the drink was worth the overly specific order, only to tell him the next time they met that she loved it.

“I wouldn’t laugh at you, I’d commend your taste,” Cas says, falsely obnoxious as he drinks his hot coffee in one go.

Dean laughs, watching Cas down his drink. “I still don’t get how you just drink it. That shit’s hotter than lava, I swear.”

Cas gives him a challenging grin and says nonchalantly, "This isn't hot enough." Dean's eyes grow wide and he shakes his head, though a small smile stays on his face. He looks back at his computer and types into it. Cas clears his throat and gets into business. "Is there any news for me?"

Dean goes through his notebook for a few moments before he says, reading off of the page, "Roman Polanski wants a suit for a private event but I'm sure you don't want that."

"Redirect him to someone immoral like Dick Roman or Lucian Morningstar, I won't design a thing for that disease," Cas answers instantly, his nose screwing up in disapproval. Dean nods, noting it down. "Anything else?"

"Charlie's gonna visit Hermés later today, she needs to check stuff with Gilda Goode," Dean fills him in. "Balthazar switched the Dior for Rocha for Rihanna. Thaddeus says Lily Sunders is gonna do sculptural suits this season. Hannah Johnson, a photographer from Vogue, she wants to know when you'll be releasing the NOVAK Fall/Winter collection if there's gonna be one at all. Vogue's getting pretty antsy about it, they had a writer, Donatello Redfield, call and ask if they can get the sneak preview before Chuck."

"Tell Vogue there will be no collection. Ask Thaddeus if he can get us a piece of hers to see," Cas starts as Dean notes it down. "Also, I need you to make sure your passport's been renewed."

Dean pauses, looking up, "Where are we going?"

"France. The director of the Paris branch of NOVAK, Cassie Robinson, is going to be on leave for a month regarding a family problem so I offered to oversee the business there in her absence," Cas answers and Dean's jaw drops.

"Cassie Robinson?" he echoes, surprised.

Cas raises an eyebrow. "Do you know her?"

"She's my ex," Dean answers a little sheepishly. "I didn't know she was working at the Paris branch."

Cas gives him an unimpressed gaze. "You've been working here for almost a year and you never found out who ran the Paris branch? Tell me who runs the one in London."

Dean is thoughtful until he very quietly says, "Bruce Wayne?"

Cas stares at him and sighs. "Alicia and Max Banes."

"Well, there's a Batman villain called Bane so if you ask me, I think I nailed that one," Dean says, giving Cas a shit-eating grin, and Cas can't help but smile when he rolls his eyes.

Cas continues, "We'll be there for a month and while I'm gone, I'll be putting Rowena in charge. But any big decisions have to go through me. Tell her to come and see me later. We'll be flying by next week, Tuesday. Is that enough time to pack? We'll likely buy new clothes or get free pieces by French brands so don't worry about bringing a month's worth of clothes."

"Yeah, a week is fine," Dean nods. "Anything else?"

"Confirm my dinner with Bela for tomorrow, ask Channing Ngo where she wants to meet for that interview she wants, and tell Amara Shurley that I don't want her for the streetwear photoshoot," Cas lists off. "Otherwise, that'll be all."

Dean finishes noting it down, nodding along, and when he's done, he smiles up at Cas, "So, Paris, huh? City of _love_." He says it with deep sarcasm written all over his face. "Mr Romantic."

"Shut up," Cas mutters, rolling his eyes again, moving his whole body along with it. "You are insufferable."

"You like it, though," Dean grins.

Cas can only smile easily. "I do."

Dean has been hard at work on designing Eileen and Sam's wedding wear. It's always been something he wanted to do ever since he started getting into fashion, designing for his brother's wedding. Having that become reality makes Dean happy in a way he can't describe, especially with Sam's soon-to-be wife being someone as awesome as Eileen. He can't think of a better couple to design for.

 _Maybe Cas and I_ , a distant thought in Dean's mind voices. _If gay marriage ever got legalized._

 _Impossible_ , Dean thinks, shaking his head as he scribbles over a design for Eileen's dress and flips to a new empty page to start another draft. Cas goes through Dean's closet to help him pick clothes out for France. Cas has a small apartment in France that he stays at when he's in France for longer than a week (and he rents it out when he's not using it), so he assures Dean that he won't need to bring that many sets of clothing. A month's worth of clothes will be a nightmare to pack.

While Dean's pretty good at travelling light, he's a little out of depth with packing for a month-long stay in a foreign country, so he's more than grateful that Cas offered to help. Cas has picked out about five sets of clothes he can wear around the apartment and three suits so far and is still rummaging through his wardrobe. Occasionally, he stops to poke fun at an ugly flannel shirt or clothes that look like they've been chewed by a moth, and he laughs when Dean gives him the stink eye. 

At some point, Cas finds a recreated Chanel jacket in his closet. The cut isn’t perfect, but Cas gives it a rest because honestly, for someone as young as Dean was at the time, it’s good enough. At least, he assumes Dean was very young when he made it.

"What's this?" Cas asks, holding the Chanel jacket up to himself and looking in the mirror. "Doesn't look like you wear it often." Obviously, it's womenswear, but Cas honestly can't care about that. He just wears what looks good on him.

Dean looks up from his sketchbook and answers absently, "I made that for my mom."

Cas instantly puts it back in Dean's closet, apologizing, "I'm sorry, I should have asked."

"No, no," Dean quickly says, walking over to take the jacket back out. He runs it over with his finger, feeling the material under his skin. Cas watches him carefully, in a way that he would never have months ago, and it almost hits Dean like a truck, the realization that it is now all different. Cas apologizes, and Dean is designing for his brother's wedding, and he is ready to begin to move on. "If you like it, you can have it. Or you can give it to Anna. Or Jo, you know, she kinda likes Chanel."

Cas gives him a look that seems like he's checking if Dean is sure of this choice, and he says, "Jo should have it."

When Jo comes over to New York for a photoshoot with Abercrombie & Fitch, Dean gives the jacket to her. She stares open-mouthed at him, between the jacket and him, and she hesitates before taking it from his hands.

"Are you sure? You made this for Aunt Mary," she says, touching it tentatively.

"I'm sure," Dean replies and he believes it. "She'd want you to have it, anyway. Mom always thought of you as a daughter."

Jo tears up as she puts the jacket over her shoulders and Dean knows that this was the right choice.

Castiel has his last therapy session with Kelly before leaving for France — to which Kelly insisted that he can video call her anytime then and she has his gratitude. He settles in the chair in Kelly’s office, exhaling as he starts, “I told Dean’s brother Sam.”

Kelly raises her eyes from her clipboard, raising her eyebrows slightly, “The thing you were working on telling me?”

He nods and elaborates, “I didn’t exactly tell him so much as _imply_. I just let him find me in a situation where he would know about it.”

Kelly smiles encouragingly, “That’s still good! And you told your friend Rowena too a while ago, I remember you told me.” Castiel nods, looking down at his hands. It’s been just a little over three months since he started dating Dean, three months since he started therapy with Kelly Kline, and he already feels a lot better than before. Not enough that he would announce it to the world, but two people are better than none, even if he never used exact words. Kelly taps the tip of her pen on the top of her clipboard in thought, humming to some pop song Castiel doesn’t know the name of. He does hear it blasting every time he passes Forever 21, though. “It’s the little steps that get you far.”

Castiel says, “I think I’m going to tell my own brother. We’re going to church on Sunday, I think I’ll tell him then. And given what I’ll be telling him, the location is a little ironic but church calms me down.”

"Good, good. You should tell him where you're comfortable," Kelly smiles, clearly glad, “This is amazing progress, Castiel. And you’re sure you’re ready?”

“I’ll never be ready,” Castiel replies in resolve. “But it’s all a leap of faith, as I have learned. Dean has a point in the way he lives, I guess. He’s more of a ‘take risks first, think later’ kind of person. Even if he’s intimidated.” He adds, hands skimming the spine of the Daredevil comic book in his YSL bag, recites from heart, a line that he read on the taxi ride over, “Fear can be overcome if you have the will.”

"Dean teaches you a lot," Kelly remarks, her eyes glinting with mirth as she puts her clipboard down across her lap. Castiel nods slowly, thinking over the past year, and it's true that Dean has changed him in little ways that made him someone he liked a little bit more, and it is his honour to have had Dean teach him everything he has.

He smiles, something small, and says, "He has."

Dean spends the night at Cas's once he's sure that the garment developers will be able to complete finishings on the fall collection by November. Cas decided against releasing the ones that Dick Roman already had on the runway. It's a decision that Dean protests against because he'd seen the care and time Cas had put into some of them personally, and he doesn't want it to go to waste just because some asshole stole them. Cas tells him that he'll simply sell them as unique pieces to his most loyal clientele and that he really doesn't mind if they don't get to walk the runway.

Cas insists that Dean take a rest from the wedding outfits, just for one night, and Dean just can't say no to that face so he caves. Cas has a new season of _Project Runway_ on his TV, and it's Cas's sarcastic commentary makes it even more fun to watch. Sam never really got the show, he just thought all the outfits were perfect and he never understood when Dean or the show's judges criticised them. At least with Cas, he got it.

They watch episode after episode, eating some instant ramen that Dean whipped up in the kitchen until they get tired enough to go to bed. At least, Dean thought they were going to bed, but then Cas leaves the bedroom to get on his emails and he starts sketching for the Spring/Summer collection for next year. It's bewildering, to say the least, but Cas says that watching _Project Runway_ has put some new ideas in his head.

"Come on, baby. Do you do more than work?" Dean asks, pulling a dramatically upset expression to which Cas lightly pushes his face away.

"Not really," Cas replies before he pauses and answers again. "Well, I do you too."

" _Hey_ ," Dean frowns, making Cas laugh. The sound echoes through the room and carves into Dean’s chest, spreads over every shred of pain, and covers it with warmth.

Cas picks up a colour pencil and shades in an ombré dress in light pinks and oranges. "I'll be in bed by 1."

"You can do this tomorrow. Hell, you can do this in France," Dean points out. "You told me to kick back and if you're not gonna do the same, neither will I." Cas rolls his eyes when Dean goes to sit down obnoxiously next to him at the dining table, grabbing his sketchbook and pencils on the way over. He flips it open to the last page he'd been drawing on and starts on a new design — Cas kind of has a point on having more inspiration after seeing designers losing their minds over couture. Cas stares at him and his book as he draws.

"Those are really beautiful designs but go and sleep," Cas finally says. When Dean continues, he sighs and adds, "Can I at least see your designs if you're going to join me?" He relents and passes the book over and Cas flips through all the drafts. He has many creative variations of a wedding dress for Eileen and some suit designs for Sam.

Dean defends to nobody at all, "Suits don't leave a lot of creative freedom."

"I agree with you there," Cas mumbles, looking over each sketch with scrutiny. He finally points out two designs each for the dress and the suit, saying, "I think these ones have the most potential. Of course, you know them better than me so go with your gut, but I like those ones."

"Me too," Dean agrees happily, proud that Cas liked his work. "You think maybe one day I could get promoted to be a designer for NOVAK?"

"No," Cas answers. It almost catches Dean off-guard until Cas explains, "Because you'll be a designer at your own label."

A wide grin spreads across Dean's face. "Shit. You can't do that to me, Cas."

"You should have seen your face," Cas barely laughs before Dean leans over to pull him into a kiss that leaves both of them a little breathless. Dean's hand at the back of Cas's neck tangles with the short hair that grazes his collar.

"I love you, Cas," he says with as much sincerity he can convey. "You're literally so great."

Cas falters a little but replies, "Dean, I can’t promise you that I can be perfect, and I probably can't. All I can do is promise that I love you."

Dean raises an eyebrow and huffs a laugh, saying, "You’d think that by now you’d realize I don’t want you to be perfect. I want you as you are."

Cas flows and Dean ebbs and it is almost perfect, but neither of them are, and Cas thinks he’s in love.

Castiel has always thought he was his worst enemy.

He has never seen himself the way other people do. The people at the orphanage thought he was a little odd for a kid, but a good one. His employees think he’s scary but admirable. Other fashion icons hold him in high esteem and respect. His friends think he’s decent for a distant guy. Dean thinks Castiel is the greatest thing to grace the surface of the Earth. Castiel thinks he’s a coward, weak, and a failure, not in regards to his career. If it were anyone else in his shoes, Castiel would think they were brave and incredible. If it were anyone else.

It’s something very brand new to Castiel when he wakes up for church and he knows his bed is empty, and the sunlight is dull on his sheets and the floor is fucking _freezing_ , but he feels happy and he actually likes his life and himself for once. 

Dean is truly something else. He did what nobody else could; Castiel is genuinely glad to be alive.

It’s Sunday, and meeting Gabriel to drive to church is easier than ever before, despite what Cas knows is going to happen when they reach. Castiel feels a sense of ease that he's never felt before, that he truly, completely, belonged at church. The ride has Gabriel telling him to call him when he's landed in France and "that Winchester kid better watch over you, if something happens I will find his ass". Castiel rolls his eyes and says he's older than Dean by one year, and even then Gabriel is still ridiculously protective.

Before long, Castiel is in church with Gabriel praying quietly next to him. His lips move against the sides of his palms that are held together in prayer. His fingertips are stained with faint tints of various shades, makeup that's been leftover from work for a celebrity that he didn't clean off properly before driving to Castiel's place. Castiel murmurs prayers, but it is half-hearted.

Gabriel stops his prayer and looks around at the tinted windows, rainbow lighting spiralling down to meet their eyes in pleasant ways. He says, making conversation, "I did Tessa Thompson's makeup today. She said she hopes you can make an outfit for her next awards show."

"Well, if she calls, I'll gladly do it," Cas replies. After Gabriel nods, it's quiet again between them. Cas starts to try and gather the courage before Gabriel says something and he has to find another opportunity. Who knows how long that will take? _Start with something easy._ “I’m dating someone,” Castiel says.

Gabriel looks up immediately, surprised. “Really? You never mentioned it before. That’s awesome, who?”

 _Build up to it._ Castiel shrugs to ease his nerves, shifting in his seat next to Gabriel, “You know them actually. You’re friends.” That catches Gabriel’s interest and he starts listing guesses — all of which are women, obviously, and for some reason, _Bela_ is still a guess — until Castiel cuts over him with a soft, “It’s Dean.”

Gabriel shuts right up, staring at Castiel. “What do you mean Dean?”

Castiel draws in a shaky breath and the moment draws out into another. Quietly, he says, “I’m gay.”

His brother looks at him, realisation sinking through him. It’s silent and still for a few seconds until Gabriel pulls him into a hug and it comes crashing into Castiel like a wave on a shore; He tried so hard to keep this part of himself hidden from everyone else for thirty years, even his own brother, and yet, with it finally out on the table, it’s incredible just how _insignificant_ it ended up being in the grand scheme of things. A slow ripple of relief spreads throughout his body as he melts into Gabriel’s embrace.

When Gabriel finally pulls away, he says, "Thank you for telling me. I love you, bro."

"You had to say 'bro' and ruin the moment," Castiel says sarcastically, even though his heart is going a hundred miles a second that it feels like it's going to burst and there are tears falling off his cheeks. But even with nerves wracking within him, it comes with a feeling of liberation that washes over him like iridescent light from the church's tall windows.

Gabriel shakes his head and hugs him again, muttering against Castiel's shoulder, "I'm gonna have the big bro talk with him."

"I'm 30 years old, Gabriel," Castiel points out.

"And Winchester still thinks ghosts are real. Your point?" Gabriel frowns and Castiel just laughs and laughs.


	14. est-ce que tu m’aimes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/ Homophobia in the church scene.

_I always say if I weren’t a fashion designer, my other dream job is being a rock star!_   
**Tommy Hilfiger**

Paris becomes very different when you’re staying there for a month for regular business instead of Fashion Week.

For one, you get to actually take in the city instead of being cooped up in showrooms and hotel rooms with your boss being the only constant in your day. Not that Dean is complaining at the idea of spending more time with Cas, but nobody likes working 24/7. Being in Paris for the second time this year just gives Dean whiplash at how different their relationship is from the last time they were there.

He gets to kiss Cas now, for example. Always a win in Dean’s book.

Granted, they’re still there for work but at least it’s not as bad as Fashion Week. Cas won’t be as stressed out and Dean can actually help with business more this time. Plus the fact that Cas has spent the last couple of months weening himself off of smokes — he still drinks from time to time but a lot lesser than before and Dean can’t be more proud. Kelly Kline said he could call her to arrange a video call appointment if Cas wanted one during their Paris trip.

They get a room in the Beatrice et Emmanuel Meublé Eiffel that charges $148 or so per night. Dean had been looking up the cheapest prices on fucking Trivago until Cas told him that the company will pay for their month-long hotel stay. Good enough for Dean — he goes ahead to book a suite there for a month. Thank God for company freebies like hotel stays. Even though he knew he could afford it without Cas, his childhood had just instilled in him the need to find the cheapest hotels.

Apparently, Cas wanted that particular hotel because it was not only near the NOVAK building in Paris but is also made like an apartment — has a kitchen and all that. Dean’s excited to cook there.

Beatrice et Emmanuel Meublé Eiffel is just 20 minutes away from the Eiffel Tower which Sam insisted over the phone is a really romantic date spot, despite Dean’s protests that it is cliché as hell. Cas would probably be more interested in Sacré-Cœur, this fancy white-domed church, or Moulin Rouge. Dean hasn’t seen the movie but it has Ewan McGregor in it so it should be good, right?

Once they get to the hotel straight from the airport, they dump the luggage in the hotel room, change into something work-worthy and head straight to the NOVAK building. Cas had chosen a navy blue Emilio Pucci cape jacket with a point collar, front zip closure and a waist belt. Dean has no idea when Cas decided to start wearing womenswear brand like when he wore the Max Mara coat but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He looked incredible. Dean himself went basic with an Alexander McQueen leather jacket.

“Cassie won’t be there, but I know my way around so I’ll show you where we’ll be working for the month,” Cas says once they get out of the taxi. The Paris NOVAK building doesn’t look that different from the one in New York City if only a slightly altered colour palette to match with other buildings on the street.

“Sucks,” Dean mumbles, following Cas into the building. “Thought I could get to say hi.”

“Maybe when we’re leaving. She said something about seeing us off at the airport,” Cas replies. They walk up to the front desk and Cas speaks in fluent French to the clerk who types something into his keyboard before gesturing to the elevator.

Dean can’t stop grinning. “You ever gonna speak French in bed or what?”

Cas rolls his eyes but he kisses Dean against the wall when the elevator doors close.

Champs-Elysées is a really beautiful street, especially this close to Christmas. There are lights hanging from the trees, illuminating a purple and yellow glow on the pavement, wet with rain. For fashion figures like him and Cas, this place is fucking paradise. Except for a handful of stores, it’s basically just clothing brands. Cas had a large amount of cash converted to Euros so they could go crazy with buying new clothes. Dean is so not complaining. 

While Cas went for some meetings in Cassie’s absence, he sends Dean to run some errands at Champs-Elysées. Since Dean can’t speak French other than the typical bonjour, oui, merci and some French cooking terms like Crêpes, so he’s not exactly the #1 person the French-speaking business partners want to meet. Dean’s pretty sure they can speak English too, but apparently they just don’t want to. Dean would argue but it’s not like he’s not stubborn here and there either. Besides, why would he pass up the chance to go around the city?

“I need about 10 jackets from Louis Vuitton. Can you ensure that we have the reservation at Bus Toque? Please ask Constantine for the article that L’Officiel wants to publish on Cassie, I need to vet it. Constantine is working in PR. And then ask Bela —“ Cas slowed down. He remedied a second later, “Confirm lunch with Kenzō Takada tomorrow.”

At least Cas is still adjusting to Paris too. Dean feels a little out of place without any of his friends there but hopefully, he’ll make some new ones and the month will pass by quick. 

Louis Vuitton at Champs-Elysées is huge, and Dean almost feels like a little kid on his birthday.

He gets the 10 jackets, and then he gets a couple more for him and Cas, then a dress from Maje for Charlie, a necklace from Cartier as a wedding gift for Eileen, and he returns to the NOVAK building three hours later, hands abundant with shopping bags and his heart full.

Cas comes out of the conference room just as Dean passes it to get to his and Cas’s office and Cas grabs his arm, stopping him from going further. He takes the larger Louis Vuitton bag and opens it, counting the jackets. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean grins, holding up the other bag. “Hope you don’t mind, but I got us some too.”

Cas smiles as Dean pulls out one of them — a leather envelope-themed mid-layer. It’s lightweight and has a papery feel to it, making the envelope part even better. Plus, the envelopes are actually working pockets, not that sewn up bullshit. Dean cannot describe the rage he feels when he finds a sexy pair of jeans to realise that the pockets are decorative and not for use. If there aren’t any pockets, don’t bother sewing the lines. “I know it’s not your style but I thought you would find it funny.”

“So I take it you had fun, then?” Cas takes the Cartier bag from him and peeks inside, walking with Dean back to their shared office space. He takes out the box. Dean shuts the door behind them as Cas puts the bag down on the desk, opening the box to look at the bracelet. It’s one of the cheapest ones in the store. Astoundingly enough, since it costs $2,240. It is made of 18K rose gold, two small rings interlocked and held with a chain; simple but elegant. Cas smiles.

“I did,” Dean grins. “I wish you were there. I saw this café. Can’t read French so I didn’t remember the name but if we go by there together, I’ll point it out.”

Cas sighs, looking towards the door to make sure it’s closed. Thankfully enough, the office they’ve been given is more private than the New York one, with actual opaque walls instead of glass ones — which was the fault of the previous owner of the building but by then Cas’s brand had become so overwhelmed with business that he never got the time or chance to renovate the office walls.

Cas says apologetically, “I’m only free to go shopping with you on Saturday.”

“That’s fine. You know I’m working if you are so it’s all good with me,” Dean says with understanding. “As long as I get to spend time with you.”

“I love you.” Cas smiles, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Dean’s lips before he rounds the corner of the desk. “The good news is that we have tonight to ourselves at Bus Toque.”

“Making the reservation when we were still in America was a good idea,” Dean remarks, watching Cas look over himself in the body-length mirror in the office. He nods approvingly and grins when he looks at Dean in the reflection, the way Dean’s eyes land right on his ass.

“Eyes up here, Winchester,” Cas jokes.

“Not my fault you have a great ass,” Dean says, raising his hands in the air as he backs away, causing Cas to laugh. He adjusts the cape jacket and grabs his phone and wallet off the desk.

“Shut up.”

Fashion is, in a word, complicated.

It’s the first thing everyone knows about the industry. Fashion trends are hard enough to keep up with, keeping it fresh for the market is another, and maintaining a modern unique style is difficult. If you work in fashion, one mistake will have you on a headline. It’s dramatic, Cas knows, but that’s the business.

Monochrome is good when done right but sometimes overused, and then colour wheel may be too predictable. Never wear an entire set of jewellery because it’s too dated but try not to leave your look not accessorised. Polka dots and floral prints go very well together but houndstooth and plaid will make people tear out their eyes. Hems of dresses should go to the top of the shoe at most if there won't be a train, any higher like at the ankle and it’ll make them look like they’re wearing their little sister’s high school prom dress. Bold colours mixed together is revolutionary but miss the shade by one Pantone hex digit and fashion editorials will eat you alive. Loose clothes in a drapey fabric are forgiving to your figure but in other fabrics, horribly unflattering. Stripes are problematic; pinstripes are a yes, wide vertical stripes are a no.

Ignoring seasonal trends, fashion becomes black-and-white. A basic set of existing rules.

 _Just as there are rules in a relationship_ , Cas surmises. _And rules in cooking._

Cas hasn’t tried to cook in a long time. Not only does his schedule not permit it, but he does not know the first thing about it. His cooking skills are limited to instant ramen and sandwiches. When he and Gabriel lived together, Gabriel cooked when they didn’t order takeout. When he moves into his own place, he ate at restaurants and ordered even more takeout. He likes home-cooked food, it offers a sense of comfort, but that’s just one of the luxuries he had to give up for his work.

But now he has Dean, who not only loves cooking but is good at it. Dean insists that they try not to eat out so much during their month in Paris and let Dean cook. Or, even better, let Dean teach him how to cook. Dean was excited at the prospect of teaching Cas how to cook, even buying an apron for the occasion with a ridiculous 'KISS THE COOK' printed in bold black on the pocket.

Dean lays out the ingredients and Cas frowns. "Did you have to get that apron? Were they out of good aprons?"

"When you find a branded apron that won't get dirty, let me know," Dean sassed.

Cas pipes up, "Well, actually, Brand Identity and Workwear Express make very nice aprons that are actually practical —"

"I love you but please stop talking." Dean kisses Cas's nose before checking to see that the water for the pasta is beginning to boil. "Can you get the spaghetti noodles ready? I think the whole box is fine, it's not that big a box."

“Do I put oil?”

“No, no. It’ll just go to the top of the water. Plus, the sauce won’t get your pasta. Ruins it,” Dean shakes his head, taking the oil and putting it aside. “Why did we even buy oil?”

Cas frowns. “You said we needed it.”

“Oh yeah, for tomorrow. Okay, whatever.” Dean huffs a breath and stirs the pasta in the pot, saying, “The box says to boil the pasta for about 12 minutes. You can turn off the heat at 10 if you want it al dente.”

Cas stares at Dean with wide eyes, stopping himself from grabbing the box of pasta. “What the fuck is al dente?”

Dean returns his incredulous stare and explains, “It’ll be chewy but still a little firm. Best kind of pasta.” 

"I'm sorry I wasn't a cooking student." Cas rolls his eyes. He dumps all the noodles into the pot and stirs it with the chopsticks that Dean insisted on getting because they looked like lightsabers. He stirs it until they begin to bend with the steam, sinking into the boiling water.

Dean nods, suggesting, "Set a timer." Cas obeys, setting the timer on his phone for 10 minutes before he sets it down on the counter. Cas watches silently as Dean heats up oil on a saucepan before putting in a mix of ingredients that Cas has no idea how he knows what to put in when.

"How did you learn how to cook?" Cas asks, marvelling at how Dean doesn't even look at the recipe loaded on his phone for Cas's reference.

"After Mom died, Dad didn't know how to cook and he was barely home. Had to learn how to cook so Sam wouldn't starve or live on takeout," Dean answers, sparing Cas a second's glance before looking back at the pan.

"I'm sorry," Cas says and before Dean can start telling him that he's got nothing to apologise for, he adds, "But I am glad that at least you got to find a hobby you enjoy and excel at that isn't fashion. It's good to have an escape, something else to do."

Dean finishes with the minced meat and turns off the stove, grinning at Cas. "You're my something else." As Cas tries to find something to say, rendered quiet with Dean's easy admission of how much Cas meant to him, the timer goes off and Cas turns the fire off. He drains the water in the sink, steam rising as the hot water touches cold steel, and Dean gets two white bowls from the cabinet. Thank God the suite provided utensils and bowls. Cas did not want to buy kitchenware.

They split the spaghetti evenly in the two bowls and then Dean pours the sauce and mincemeat. Once it's done, Dean gives Cas a lopsided smile. "Look at that, we made pasta. You don't completely suck in the kitchen."

"I barely did anything," Cas points out, bringing the bowls over to the table while Dean puts the pan and pot into the sink to clean later.

"You did the spaghetti. If pasta was a musical, you did the title track," Dean says, smiling like an idiot at his own analogy.

"Never compare spaghetti to musicals again," Cas sighs. Once they're seated, Dean starts eating happily, talking about how Cas did such a great job with the spaghetti and that with practice, he'll be as good a chef as he is. It sends a fluttering feeling into Cas's chest and he can't help but eventually agree that he did well.

After dinner, they washed the dishes together and it just never felt like a chore whenever he did it with Dean. A lot of things didn't felt like a chore whenever Dean was around, actually.

They went to bed afterwards and stared at the two beds in the bedroom — Cas insisted on getting a room with two beds instead of one to not raise suspicions because, as Dean as learned, whenever celebrities get a double, someone always leaks it to the press and the next morning, paparazzi will be waiting outside the hotel to see who spent the night with them. He also insisted on no room service unless he called for it. It was a smart precaution in view of the media until they retire to bed for the night and realise that they're in separate beds.

Dean looks over at Cas and gives him a bright smile. "We can just push them together."

They push the beds so that there's as little space between them as possible — Cas gets the bedside tables out of the way and Dean pushes the beds together so they meet in the middle.

Even with the space of two beds, they still somehow ended up close together.

Cas is too busy and apparently, Bela Talbot has an event in Paris that she wanted him to style her for, so Cas sends him to do his job. Dean has no complaints — he's a stylist so he might as well get some work in. Styling Bela Talbot being on his resumé is a lot more impressive than styling his little brother for a date.

She breezes into his and Cas's hotel suite with her British charm, looking over the room. "How much was this? I might just book this as my hotel the next time I come here."

"$148 a night," Dean answers, shutting the door behind them. Before her arrival, Dean had already gotten some pieces from NOVAK Paris's building's storage closet for her. "So I picked out some pieces for you, you can try some on and then we can choose shoes and accessories." For outfits, there was a black and yellow Sophie Theallet floral dress, an Alexander McQueen coat, a grey Max Mara suit, a Stella McCartney trench and a mix of Dior pieces.

"Ooh, I love these," Bela says approvingly, taking the Stella McCartney trench coat. "Good choice with the black, I only have dark makeup on me right now."

Dean gestures to the makeup kit on the kitchen counter. "I borrowed some makeup from the NOVAK MUAs just in case you didn't have the right makeup for the look you choose."

"You're prepared, I like that." A radiant smile splits across Bela's face and she holds the Stella McCartney against her body, looking in the mirror. "What do you think of this for a private show?"

"I think any of these are fine. But for a show, I think McCartney, Theallet or Max Mara would be the better options," Dean suggests, pointing out each outfit as he lists the designers. "I think the Dior would be good too, with or without the coat."

Bela nods along, holding up different pieces as she checks herself out in the mirror. When she puts the McCartney up again, her eyes widen and she spins around to look at Dean. "This is from this summer."

Dean frowns, "So?"

"I'd think a lot of celebrities would have been booking this dress for ages," Bela says. "So how did you get it in time for a last-minute styling?"

"I called in a favour with Toni Bevell, the actress. She had the dress reserved for around this time but I promised to get her this Chanel outfit she wants if she'll let me take the dress for you instead," Dean explains, a little embarrassed to have been found out. Bela stares at him, back at the dress, and then she hangs it back on the rack.

"I'm not a fool, Winchester. Otherwise, I'd be a circus clown instead of a designer," Bela says, moving closer to Dean. She smiles, deliberately insufferable. Dean draws in a deep breath. She asks, "Are you trying to impress me?"

Dean furrows his eyebrows, confused. "Sorry?"

"You like Cassandra, don't you?" Bela asks, her grin becoming teasing. "You want to do a good job styling me so he'd be happy."

Nervous, Dean tries to reroute the conversation. "Why do you call him Cassandra?"

"Because nobody else does," she answers promptly, looking around the suite and walking over to the bedroom.

Dean follows her, trying, "Bela, don't —"

She sees the two beds pushed together, sheets messy, Cas's sleep shirt hanging off the edge of one of the beds. Dean stops breathing. Bela stares, wide-eyed, and looks at Dean. "I was only teasing. I mean, I had my suspicions that Castiel wasn't, you know, _straight_ , but I had no idea."

Dean says, quiet, "He didn't want to tell anyone, so can you not..."

Bela instantly nods, backing away from the room. She starts to apologise, "I won't tell him. I thought you had a crush on him, not that you were dating. I'm really sorry, Dean. It wasn't my intention."

He presses his lips together and trails her back to the main area of the suite where all the outfits are. "Look, as long as he doesn't know you know, I think it's alright."

"I feel awful, I am truly sorry," Bela rues.

"Well, what can we do, right?" Dean replies. They can't turn back time anyway so they may as well just accept that she now knew about them. He pulls the Dior outfit back out from the rack and holds out the blazer to Bela. "Why'd you think Cas wasn't straight?"

Bela hesitantly answers, taking the blazer, "He was never interested in any of the supermodels Crowley and I introduced to him. We thought he was just married to his work, you know, but then we found this girl." Dean turns around so Bela can take off her shirt to put the blazer on. "Absolutely perfect for him; Gorgeous, intelligent, loved history and poetry, loved fashion as much as he did. But he never cared about any of it. So we had the thought that maybe he was gay, but we didn't want to just assume." She turns back around to get the pants and says, "Plus, his brother told us he was straight so we didn't say anything."

"He told Gabriel before we came to Paris," Dean tells her.

Bela's mouth falls open slightly before she smiles, small. "He did?"

"Yeah. The big first step," Dean says, unable to stop the pride in his voice. He drapes the checkered coat over Bela's shoulders, both of them looking at her in the mirror. "You promise you won't tell Meg or Crowley?"

"Of course. He's my dearest friend, Dean. I would never sell him out," Bela says. She twists around to look at herself over her shoulder. "And you have my approval."

"For the outfit?" Dean asks, already looking over the three pairs of black Manolo Blahniks he brought along.

"For the outfit," Bela affirms. "And Castiel. All of it."

It's an odd feeling of contentment to have your boyfriend's close friend approve of you, especially when nobody else knew of you.

Cas emerges from the room in hotel slippers, the envelope mid-layer and a pair of sweatpants the hotel provided. He's wearing _just_ the mid-layer, so under it is Cas's toned body. He catwalks over to him, nose turned up and purposefully pretentious.

" _Fashun_ ," Dean says dramatically. Cas does the vogue pose from the popular music video and Dean laughs, shaking his head. "I need to find something ridiculous to wear."

"Or you could just wear nothing," Cas shrugs, but there's a playfulness in his eyes. Dean makes grabby motions with his hands and Cas leans down, letting Dean press a quick kiss to his lips before returning his gaze to his sketchbook. Cas straightens up and goes to pour himself a glass of water at the counter. "How are your designs going?"

"They're going," Dean answers uselessly, spinning his pencil between his fingers as he looks over the suit thoughtfully. He'd come up with almost 20 solid designs for Eileen's dress to run by her when he's back in New York, but he had just 3 for Sam. His mind goes completely blank when he sees the body sketch for Sam. He sighs, leaning back against the bed.

Cas takes off the mid-layer and rests it on the chair before he rolls onto the bed and lies on his stomach, peering over Dean's shoulder at the sketchbook. "Do you need help?"

"Do you have any ideas for a suit that isn't basic?" Dean asks.

Cas's arms go over Dean's shoulders to take the sketchbook from him. He flips through and looks over the new concepts, saying, "I said it before, but it's hard designing suits for men. I think you're better off going for a basic suit with good colours and match Eileen's dress with his colour scheme. You have a lot of impressive dress designs so all you can really do now is match her with him to make his suit look a little less basic."

Dean turns and takes the sketchbook, flipping a few pages earlier to show him one of his sketches for Eileen's dress. "I like this one the most, I could see her in this." It is a nude colour with light ivory tulle. Long sleeves with gold Chantilly lace bodice and an asymmetric pleated tulle skirt.

Cas nods approvingly, "You could match a nude monochrome suit with this easily. I think they would like it too." Dean's brain is already working on a new suit design and he reclaims the sketchbook to start drawing. His phone buzzed on the bedside table and Cas sits up to take a look. He notifies Dean, "Bela texted you. She says she's sorry if she overstepped." He looks up at Dean whose pen has frozen, hovering an inch above the blank page. "What happened?"

Dean answers, only sparing a second's glance at Cas before returning his attention to the sketchbook, "She asked about my mom." Before Cas can say anything, Dean assures him, "Relax, I told her it was all good. She just felt bad."

Cas looks unconvinced. "And you're fine with it?"

Surprisingly, Dean realises that he is. "You know what? I think I am. It's been twenty years. I think I'm good."

Cas moves across the bed to Dean, pressing a kiss to his forehead and then the tip of his nose. "I'm proud of you."

Dean smiles, pulling Cas's face back towards his as soon as Cas started to move away. His lips hover over Cas's, gentle breath and a thumb brushing over Cas's sharp cheekbone. "You helped."

"Whatever progress you make is of your own strength. You did that, not me," Cas denies, kissing the corner of Dean's mouth. "Did Jo like the jacket?"

"Loved it. She sent me a photo and everything." Dean grins. "Look Cas, if you don't put on a shirt soon, I'm gonna show you how much I love you."

Cas leans back enough so that they can look at each other, giving Dean a look so suggestive that it put every other lover he ever had to shame. "Then show me."

Belonging to something and feeling belonged are two very different things.

Growing up, church for Castiel meant people like him were unwelcome, no matter how misinterpreted the Bible had become by then. He had to make sure he didn't have a trace of makeup on his face, and that he was not wearing anything pink, and he went with only his brother or a girl, who was often Anna.

Things are different now. A little more open-minded, a queer pastor here and there, but Castiel's view has been tainted forever. After he and Gabriel moved to Hell's Kitchen, Castiel stopped going to church for a few years but his faith riddled him with guilt and he eventually started going back. He reacquainted himself with the familiar colourful glass, with crucifixes pinned to the walls and murals painted to finer details than some pieces he has seen on runways.

Most days, Castiel feels at home at churches, but never in place.

Dean had pointed out that there was a church near their hotel, but he didn't get the chance to visit it until their last week in Paris. The Sacré-Cœur; with white domes of travertine stone on the top, it looked more like a castle if it weren't for the small crucifixes on the tips of those domes. There were bronze statues of Joan of Arc and King Saint Louis IX erected on each side of the church. Dean rarely visited churches — he liked keeping a fair distance from religion — but he wanted to go with him out of interest to see the large church.

They step through the door and the first thing that grabs their attention is a gorgeous mural on the curved ceiling above the altar. Gold, blue and white, Jesus has his arms outstretched to his loyal followers, a gold halo behind his head. Rows of wooden benches split into two columns line the area in front of the altar, a few people dispersed among the seats in quiet prayers barely above a murmur.

"Man, that Jesus mural is beautiful," Dean says, looking up at the ceiling and at the pillars.

"Christ in Majesty," Castiel names, gazing in awe. "Luc-Olivier Merson made that."

Dean nods, impressed, and says, "I'm gonna go look at the altar. You coming or do you want to pray? I can go look around while you do that or stay here with you if you want me to."

The consideration Dean has towards the possibility of Castiel wanting to pray surprises him slightly but he nods. "Yes, I'd like to pray. But in privacy."

Dean gives him a thumbs up and says, "Alright, I'll come back in a bit." Castiel gets seated in the closest bench to him, a completely empty row with an old man in the bench in front of him. He clasps his hands together and leans his elbows on the back of the bench in front. He looks up at the mural, looks ahead where Dean is speaking to a woman, hands moving animatedly as he talks.

"It has been a month since I last prayed to you. I have been busy, as I'm sure you have been as well," Castiel starts, a quiet murmur into his hands. "I wanted to pray because, well, I'm worried about the rug being pulled out from beneath my feet. Things have been going well and my life has never been so smooth for so long. I just... I want everything to be fine. I want Dean to continue to be well, and I hope you assist him as he starts to move on from his mother's death. I know it's something nobody can ever truly get over, but I hope that you will help him as far as is possible."

He thinks, reaches for anything else to pray for. "Would you be angry with me if I stopped attending church for good? I will always be loyal to you, but I fear... Well, I fear a lot of things, actually. But I pray that it is within your understanding that some of your followers may be misguided in some aspects. But I am loyal to you still, and I do not need to be in a cathedral to love you." A moment passes before he sees Dean beginning to make his way back, so he mumbles a quick thank you and Amen before his hands fall away to his sides.

"You're done?" Dean asks, raising an eyebrow. "That didn't take very long."

"I'm quick, I thought you knew that already," Castiel says, shifting inward so Dean can sit next to him. The old man in front of him continues to pray. "Did you find out anything interesting?"

"The dome at the top's open to people so we could go up there and sightsee or something," Dean says, borderline excited at the thought with the way he leans in. It's almost like they're teenagers and Dean's suggesting they cut class. Nowhere near the same context, but it felt equally interesting purely because of Dean's enthusiasm at the idea.

"We'll go before we leave," Castiel promises.

Dean looks around at the other devouts praying and turns to Castiel, requesting, "Can you teach me how to pray?"

Castiel blinks. "What?"

Dean explains, clueless, "I've never prayed before so I don't really know how it works. How do you call the big man upstairs? How do you know he picked up the phone?"

"You don't," Castiel answers, putting his hands over Dean's to clasp them together. "Do that."

"So you pray because..."

"Keeping the faith can be comforting," Castiel says. "Talk to God with your heart and that's enough."

Dean shrugs and closes his eyes, saying, "Dear God, I hope Cas will love me forever." Castiel shoots him a look and Dean smiles, eyes still closed. "I hope Sam and Eileen's wedding will be great — I mean, I know it will, but a little blessing never hurt anyone, right? And I hope that NOVAK and Cas keep getting better." He adds like an afterthought, "Also, I think it would be really cool if I got to have Gary Busey at my funeral."

Castiel can't help but laugh quietly. "Prayers don't work like that."

"My prayer, my rules," Dean counters, pressing a quick kiss to Castiel's temple.

"Dean, we're in a church!" Castiel whispers, his expression scandalised. 

The old man stands and turns just as Dean kisses Castiel again and his face twists into disgust. "What the hell are you two doing?"

Dean instantly pulls away, alarmed by the man's confrontation. He tries for a placating smile. "Relax. We're just doing our own thing."

"You dare to sin in front of God?" the man questions, appalled and shaming, and Castiel just wants to bury himself among the benches when some other people nearby look over and whisper.

"What's your problem, man?" Dean loses the cordiality for a pissed off demeanour.

"Dean, let's just go," Castiel whispers, tugging his arm. Dean being quick to anger sometimes is really not helpful right now. When Dean doesn't budge, looking like he's itching to start a fight with the old man, Castiel grips his arm a little harder. "Let's go."

Dean relents. "Fine."

They walk back to the entrance of the church and Castiel tries to ignore the man as he calls out after them, "God would be ashamed of you."

"You know, Sam likes the whole God thing. He had a Bible and I read a little bit of it," Dean says, maybe trying to distract Castiel as he takes his hand in his, rubbing circles on the back of his hand. "This isn't wrong, I hope you know that."

"Yeah." Castiel's throat is dry. "Dean, can you go ahead? I'll catch up with you, just give me a minute."

"You sure?" Dean asks, looking him over.

"I'm sure," Castiel nods. Dean yields and, without the man staring at them, kisses his forehead before he walks off, separating at the entrance of the church. Castiel turns to look back at the altar.

He holds his crucifix necklace up, holding it between his fingers in front of him. The thin gold glints under the fragmented rainbow lights of tainted glass, beautiful and not at all. Castiel raises it so it stands at the altar in his vision, the tip touching Jesus's halo and the bottom on the altar's floor.

He closes his eyes, presses the cold metal to his lips, lets the crucifix rest against his mouth in an effortless kiss. While it may have been true that being gay wasn't a sin, the man's words still strike deep within him, reaching into the darkest corners of his heart that he'd tried to block out of times when he'd tried to fight his desire and never did.

"God..." Quietly, he apologises. "I'm sorry. I tried."

If it was any more possible to go deeper into a closet, Cas may be there.

On their last day in Paris, Cassie Robinson insisted on seeing them at the NOVAK building before they leave for their flight back to America. She bustles in through the doors of NOVAK Paris, dressed in a black Max Mara canvas raincoat. Her cheekbones are more defined than Dean remembered them to be, her eyes sharper and hair curlier. She is still as beautiful as Dean had always known her to be.

Her smile is bright as she crosses the lobby to them. She shakes Cas's hand, saying hello, and she falters a little bit at Dean but her smile doesn't fade. "Dean, it's good to see you."

"You look good, Cassie," Dean compliments. She grins and it's obvious there is some awkwardness but everything was well. Dean is glad that they didn't break up on bad terms.

Cassie says, "When I heard that Castiel got a P.A. and it was Dean Winchester... I can't say I was surprised that you made your way up so quickly. I know it's been a year since you got the job, but congratulations, Dean."

"What about you? You're the CEO of this place," Dean says, in awe.

Cas smiles, patting Cassie's shoulder. "One of the best designers I have ever had. I knew she was destined for better things. Paris opened up so I sent her here." A distant thought in Dean's mind makes itself known, happiness attached to Cas being this cool with his ex. Not every partner would have been so jovial with exes, thank God Cas isn't one of those.

"God, I _love_ it here. Best job ever," Cassie laughs. She looks down at her watch and asks, "Your taxi is coming in a few, so I think I'll leave you two here." She takes out a post-it from her bag and scribbles on it before passing it to Dean. "Here's my current number. You should text me sometime, Dean. I missed being your friend."

"I will," Dean promises, taking the number. Cassie gives them both a faire la bise before thanking Cas for helping stand-in in her absence. With that, she waves goodbye as Dean and Cas head for the airport to go home.


	15. mon rayon de soleil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW/ Homophobia 101 by John Winchester

If you want easy, don’t pick fashion.   
**John Galliano**

School’s out for holidays and Sam conveniently doesn’t have any new cases lined up for December, so the logical idea for Eileen and Sam is to go spend the last month of 2015 and New Year’s with Dean and Castiel. Cas offers up his place for them to stay instead of Dean’s since it’s way bigger which has Sam excited to finally get to see what Cas’s place looks like. Dean even helped tidy up Cas’s apartment before Sam and Eileen arrived, moving his incomplete works to his home office and personal items to his room. Cas’s TV already has subtitles set up so it wouldn’t be a problem for Eileen.

Dean isn’t going to stay with Cas just because Sam is there but it’s also not like he doesn’t already spend as much time at Cas’s as he can. In fact, he’d had half a mind to hint at him wanting to move in or if Cas would move in with him — but let’s be real, why would Cas move into Dean’s small, cheap apartment when he had this gold standard one? Dean would be the one packing his things into the cardboard boxes.

Cas has been acting a little bit off since meeting that jackass at the Paris church and Dean’s sure the interaction might be stirring up some old feelings so he’d tried his best to make Cas feel better when they were back in LA — during lunch, he’d asked Charlie to talk about her girlfriend so Cas could see that being gay isn’t a bad thing at all and that he wasn’t alone, and then he’d bought Cas a pair of Doc Martens from its Pride collection, black leather lace-up boots with a small rainbow flag near the heel. He told him he didn’t have to wear it if he didn’t want to, he just thought they were nice shoes.

Obviously, Cas never wore them out, but he insisted that he loved the boots and hoped he would be brave enough to wear that tiny rainbow flag out soon.

Charlie had been excited about his return, insisting that they, Kevin, Missouri and Gabriel go shopping on the nearest weekend. She loved the Armani blouson Dean bought for her just as Eileen loved the bracelet. Cas even wears the mid-layer to work on their first day back in their New York office which has Dean stupidly happy.

The first week passes quickly, Cas getting back into the swing of business — pulling together outfits for last-minute events for celebrities. He'd put Hollywood Film Awards outfits in Balthazar, Bess and Meg's hands in his absence so he could focus on running the Paris branch well in Cassie's place.

Dean’s Twitter account has blown up, surpassing two million followers since his and Cas’s return to New York City. It’s a bit daunting but as it turns out, he just needs to post pictures of himself and his outfits and it’s enough for them. Apparently, they think he’s supermodel material. At most, they like hearing updates about Cas — of course, only the updates that are allowed like what coffee order he likes.

(For some reason, that's stuff people want to know. But who is Dean to talk? He has the order memorised to heart.)

Cas's Twitter is literally full of zoomed-in photos of Dean working at his desk, either seriously doing tasks or pulling weird faces or doing something funny. According to Ed Zeddmore, the social media analyst, the public liked when Cas showed a softer side from the scary fashion icon image he has. Showing Dean fooling around with him also tells them he has a good relationship with his employees. It's not a façade anyway. Most, if not all, his employees enjoyed working for him.

Though Dean wanted to start his own label someday, he supposes he wouldn't be upset at all if he ended up working for Cas instead.

Bela Talbot is a very intuitive woman. This is how she became such a successful businesswoman and kept up with the everchanging fashion scene and trends with perfect ease. It also means that when her friends act differently, she often knows what’s on their mind.

Cas has been acting strange since his return from Paris. Since finding out about him on accident through Dean, Bela had simply been waiting for Cas to tell her, acting as she did when she didn’t know. But now, he’s been fairly jumpy during their outings together, like he’s carefully choosing his words as he speaks. If she were hopeful enough, she thinks that maybe Cas has been thinking about telling her.

Turns out, she was right, because Cas calls her to ask her if she’s free to come over two weeks after coming back from France. She had to handle client orders so he agrees to go to her place instead. She and Cas both lived on the higher ends of New York City but while Cas lived in Flushing, she stayed at 25 Park Row.

He shows up at her door at 8 in the evening and nudges his shoes off — it's kind of endearing that despite the high esteem Cas holds for fashionable shoes, he still toes them off instead of taking them off properly. He greets her with a kiss to her cheek and then the nerves begin building in him.

She eases him up by ranting about an employee. "You will not believe the day I have had! My photographer is incompetent — he just cannot take a clear photo for the life of him. I pointed out that all his pictures were blurry and he had the audacity to tell me that I can't appreciate art! _Me_!"

Cas laughs quietly, looking at the various paintings that decorate Bela's walls. "He certainly doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Think I'll let him go tomorrow," Bela says simply. "Anyway, enough about me. You know I'd never complain but why the sudden visit, Cassandra?" She had to pretend she didn't know why he was really there.

"I want to tell you something. I don't know why I get so nervous about it, I know you'll be fine with it, supportive even, but I..." Cas rubs his hands uncomfortably on his thighs. "But I think I'm ready to tell you."

Bela tries one of her more relaxing smiles. "Nothing you could say would ever make me hate you, Cas."

Cas nods and takes the glass of wine she offers him. He downs the red liquid in a matter of seconds for courage and takes a deep breath. "Bela, I'm gay."

"And you let me go first?" Bela grins, pulling him into a tight hug. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"The fact that you said it out loud does make it very clear," Cas jokes but she knows his knees are probably going to give way any second now. She brings him to lean against her counter and kisses his forehead with a smile.

"I'm proud of you, Cas. Truly," she says.

"And I'm dating Dean," Cas adds.

Bela laughs, "With the way that man looks at you? I'm not surprised, Cas." Just like that, they go right back to normal.

On Sunday after a last-minute dinner, the paparazzi finally manage to catch them. They'd been trying to get Dean and Cas since they came back but Cas had expertly navigated through and away from them those times. You just can't run forever.

Dean and Cas only leave the restaurant doors after they're sure that the cab they called had arrived. When they walk out, camera flashes practically blind them as they try to go through the mass of paparazzi. Dean is a little tempted to grab Cas's hand but he knew it just wouldn't fly with him in front of all these cameras.

"Welcome back to NYC, Castiel!" someone shouts in good nature. Another asks loudly in Dean's ear, making him wince, "What happened to Cassie Robinson?"

"None of your business," Cas answers, angling the microphone out of Dean's face for him.

"I want to ask you your opinion of Leviathan's withdrawn fall collection! How did —"

"Shut up about the collection," Cas says bitterly. "It's withdrawn, it's scrapped. Why should I care?" 

"Are you dating Bela Talbot? She was in Paris, did she visit you?" one of the paps shout above the noise. Cas narrows his eyes at the reporter and mutters a no, trying to get to the car. Then another pap tries a different name, "What about Dean? There have been rumours online that you are dating your assistant —"

"I'm right here, man. Not cool," Dean interrupts, glaring at the pap.

"So are you?" the pap asks further, ignoring Dean and making him roll his eyes, urging Cas forward to the car. "There are photos of you being close to each other in Paris! A fan caught you two outside the Sacré-Cœur —"

Castiel cuts over, staring right into the pap's eyes, "We are not dating. Fuck off."

Dean knows it's not personal, but it still aches in his chest as he and Cas finally make it into the cab and take off. He doesn't voice it, but it doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

John wanted to visit Dean after he came back so Dean suggested Sunday. He had plans with Cas, Sam and Eileen the day before and thought it would be better to get to John after something good instead of entertaining the possibility that John will absolutely butcher his mood.

He comes over with a bottle of wine, white chardonnay. Dean's not really sure why he thought to bring wine but he's not going to say no to a free bottle of quality wine. Dean explains as John looks around, leaving his shoes at the doorway, "Sam and Eileen are staying at Cas's place because he's got more room and they can actually get some wedding planning done there."

John nods, leaving the bottle on the coffee table. "How was France?"

"Good, yeah. I saw Cassie again, this girl I went to college with," Dean brings up, trying to make conversation. He's also not sure why John couldn't have just texted or called. This is so awkward. "Did some shopping for Sam, Eileen and some friends." He pauses, watching the way John glances around looking so out of place, and he questions, "What are you doing here?"

"I've been following the news, you know? Looking in the fashion section because you work in that area," John starts as a way of explanation. "There's a whole lot of gossip... But I saw that you were dating somebody?"

Dean inwardly grimaces — the relationship talk is just weird no matter when he got it. When he brought back his first partner, some girl in elementary school he no longer remembered the name of — Rhonda? Who knows? — Bobby and Ellen were strange about it, at least it was strange to a young boy. Asking if he really had a girlfriend. Dean never liked talking about that. He gives John a forced smile. "Yeah." He regretted doing a Q&A on Twitter when he was tipsy over some good champagne. He faintly remembered answering someone's question of if he was single with a blatant 'hahaha nooo i'm taken losers'.

"Well, could I meet them?" John says. Maybe this is his way of bridging the gap between them. Dean will humour him, but he's unsure of how effective his efforts are.

Dean nods, propping his elbows up on the edge of the table. “Well, I’ll have to check if he’s free, but I think Friday’s good.”

John pauses, holding the cup inches from his lips. “He?”

A sinking feeling makes itself known in Dean’s chest but he tries to ignore it, replying, “Yeah, he. Castiel. Why?”

“Who, your boss, that Castiel?” John asks, putting the cup down. “You’re dating him?”

Dean chuckles fakely. “I thought I was clear.”

John stares. “There must be some mistake.”

Dean can barely even believe it. He thought that maybe, just maybe, there would have been a chance for some good reconciliation. A way John could have somehow redeemed himself in his eyes in spite of all the wrongs he’d done to him even without being there. That maybe he wasn’t an asshole all the way through. “Hell no. We are not having this conversation —“

“You’re gay?” John asks, blinking in confusion.

“Bisexual,” Dean corrects, tone biting. “So what?”

John looks at him like he can’t believe he still hasn’t caught on yet and it’s starting to drive Dean crazy. He hated that look when he was a kid and he still hated it now. He always got that look after he’d get dirty in the front yard, tracked mud on the carpeted house floor and wondered why John was so upset. He got that look when he ate ice cream before dinner and wondered why John was mad that he was ‘spoiling his appetite’. And now he’s seeing that look again, but this time the explanation had been short. “It’s wrong.”

Dean’s heart stops for a second. Somehow, deep down, he knew they were always going to end up here, that John would never be so open to change, despite being the cause of the biggest change in Dean’s life. He scoffs, “Wrong? Sorry to break it to you, but you weren’t here. You don’t get to have an opinion. You’re the one who said you wanted to get more involved with me and Sam, make it up to us for Adam. This is what you call getting involved?”

John raises his hands slightly like he’s defending himself from an onslaught. “No, Dean, this is wanting what's best for you! If you want any kind of success, it's better to just keep this under wraps —“

“Shut up!” Dean interrupts. “Just shut up, John.” John does, watching him silently but now carrying judgement in his heavy gaze. Dean draws in a deep breath and continues, “I’ve been told time and again, all my life, this is wrong, I shouldn’t be with guys. Just stick to girls. I’ve been called names, people tried me at school, Ellen can tell you the number of times she’s patched me up from fights I got into because I was dating a guy. And now with Cas, he doesn’t like people knowing about him because of things like that, like me getting beaten because of people like you, who think this is wrong. He’s unhappy because of people like you. Let me tell you this, I don’t need to prove to you that there’s nothing wrong with me loving Cas. You asked me to organise a dinner with the person I’m dating and he’s it.”

John nods slowly, trying to comprehend Dean’s short rant. Eventually, he says, “I just don’t understand how this happened. Is this because I left?”

Dean barely laughs. He didn’t know what he expected from John. It seemed almost like a cosmic joke that Dean looked up to him as a young child and now he’s in this situation with him. A cosmic joke that John and he share because Dean cannot imagine how John would handle the information that not only is his eldest son bisexual, but his youngest is gay and his best friend at the hospital isn’t really his best friend more than he is his boyfriend. He wondered, distantly, if Adam knew or suspected that John was like this. It has to be why Adam hadn’t told John who Michael really is, he always saw this coming.

Dean sighs, heavy with disappointment. “For fuck’s sake — it’s got _nothing_ to do with you. That’s just who I am.” At John’s silence, Dean runs a hand over his face, frustrated and angry. “Just forget it, okay? Don’t talk to me, don’t talk to Sam. Don’t even bother talking to Adam, because I know this won’t ride with him. Just stay the hell away from us, asshole.”

“Dean, wait,” John calls out. Dean walks to the front door and throws it open, holding one hand out to gesture out the door.

“Exit’s right here,” Dean says. “Get out.”

After John leaves, Dean finishes half the bottle of chardonnay.

The thing about Dean is that he is angry by nature. He never showed it often, especially not around people close to him like Cas or Sam, but he did snap at Cas back when he first started the job when he barely knew him. He’s still a little tight around Michael because they rarely see each other. If Cas had let him, he’d probably have picked a fight with the homophobe at the church.

The point is that Dean has anger in his veins, ignited by John when he left and never came back. Angry at the unfairness of his family, Dean never truly learned how to handle it healthily. Not to say Ellen and Bobby never tried, but Dean never showed them that part of himself. It was really bad during school when people made fun of him for liking boys and he’d get into fights. He rarely did now, if at all, with times being different and now he’s surrounded by professionals in offices, not stupid kids at playgrounds. Dean liked to suppress the memories of his childhood but John had pushed him.

Now, every moment in his life where people have judged him and insisted he stay in the closet, it all came rushing out like a broken floodgate, unwilling to stop as it clouded every inch of Dean’s rationality all the way to Cas’s place. His mind was in an unclear fog and Dean’s anger was at a new high. He wasn’t sure when was the last time he’d been so livid -- maybe back in elementary school when a bunch of boys trapped him in a locker because they caught him staring at another boy and Dean hunted them down once a teacher freed him.

Except now, his self-destructiveness has resurfaced yet again. He didn’t go after John, he went after himself instead, after the one person he loved more than anyone.

The way to Cas’s apartment has long ingrained itself into Dean’s mind, the path there was almost like a childhood memory with the familiarity. He knew Sam and Eileen were out on a date right now which was probably for the better. Though, even if they were there, Dean doubted it would have made the situation better or worse. He was too angry. Not angry enough to not be sensible — he'd hailed a cab instead of driving.

Cas’s smile falls instantly when he sees the bitter expression on Dean’s face and he steps aside, watching cautiously as Dean enters. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just so fucking angry,” Dean starts. “People are such goddamn sons of bitches and I hate that they think I need to tone it down or be someone else entirely just because it makes them uncomfortable because how the hell is it my fault?”

Cas closes the door quietly and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. It feels grounding, almost calming, but not enough for almost thirty years of belittlement. Cas asks, “What happened?”

Dean explains, pacing, causing Cas’s hand to fall off his shoulder back to his side, “I was talking with John earlier and he didn’t approve of us because you’re a guy.”

Cas looks at him with an expression that sends guilt straight to Dean’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

He tries for an assuring tone when he says, “It’s okay, but it got me all riled up...” Cas watches him warily, a silent beckoning to go on, and so Dean continues. “I’ve had people insult me over this sort of thing when I grew up because that’s twenty years ago when people weren’t so jazzed about people like us, right? And now that I’m out, I don’t want to go back into the metaphorical closet because my asshole dad doesn’t want to be a little more open-minded.”

Now. Now, Castiel understands where this is going. “Dean, please don’t. I’m not...”

“Look, Cas. I get it, okay? You’re not comfortable with being out. I’m not going to force you to come out, you do that whenever you’re ready,” Dean says. He drags in a long breath and says, “But I can’t keep hiding.”

“Please don’t make me choose between you and my life,” Cas starts saying.

Dean quickly remedies, “I’m not saying you have to come out, Cas. You do that when you want to. I know you have your own history like I have my own, you aren’t the problem. The problem is people like John who keep insisting that I be someone else and I’m tired of hiding.” He pauses at the sight of Cas looking like he’s trying to understand. “I’m not making you choose, Cas. I still love you more than anything and I’ll wait for you. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. But I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not. You may be good with that, and that’s fine and all, but I’m not. So you take your time. But I’m not going back in there.”

Dean goes to leave while Cas is still staring speechlessly at him. He’d wanted to turn around, check on him. Though when he reaches the door, he finds that he can’t face him again, and he didn’t have the guts to admit that he made a mistake. 

An hour after it happened, Dean went back to the NOVAK building. It’s Sunday so barely anyone was around and he didn’t want to be near anybody, just wanted to be alone and think about the day. Therefore, it is an hour after it happened that Dean finally processes that he had fucked up.

So Dean did what he always did when he fucked up; the same thing he did when he snapped at Cas on his first day of work — call Sam and hope he can solve it. Sam had a more level head if the matter doesn’t relate to him and with him staying at Cas’s place, maybe he could help. Hopefully, he hadn’t gone back to Cas’s apartment yet. Dean calls Sam and holds the phone up to his ear, choosing to sit in the hallway instead of the office. He thought it’d just suck to see anything of Cas’s right now.

The line goes through. “Dean?”

“I fucked up, Sam,” Dean says, and it’s almost like it’s the first day of work again except instead of being outside the studio, he was in the hallway almost in tears.

He hears shuffling from the other end, probably Sam moving to a more private spot, before Sam asks, “What happened?”

“John wanted to meet the person I was dating, so I told him I’ll have to check if Cas is free, but he told me it’s wrong to date guys and I got really mad about it so I broke up with Cas and I regret it so much,” Dean rushes out. “Fuck, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Dean —“

“John’s ruined my god damn life without being around, and he’s ruining it again! The one thing I have that makes everything worth it and I just let him go,” Dean unintentionally cuts over Sam and when he feels a tear fall off his jaw, a flash of frustration coupled with remorse goes through his chest.

Sam says, voice slow as if it would make Dean slow down too, “Just tell Cas you didn’t mean it. I’m sure he’ll get it. You said he’s had his own experiences with this sort of thing.”

Dean runs a hand over his face, wiping the wetness off on his jeans. “But that’s just it, Sam. I don’t want to break up with him but I don’t want this to be some secret anymore. I can’t even hold my boyfriend’s hand when we’re not at his place or mine! I know this is hard for him, I told him he has all the time he needs, but fuck John, I am not hiding for him.”

“Yeah, you’re not hiding for him. But Cas needs you, man. And I know you need him too,” Sam replies. “Look, just talk to Cas, okay? Forget about Dad, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Don’t think he’ll want to see me, at least not so soon,” Dean mutters. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Then tomorrow,” Sam affirms. “I’ll go straight to your place after Eileen and I are done here, alright? I’ll see you later. Where are you anyway?”

“The office,” Dean answers, sniffing as he looks up at the ceiling light above him. “Nobody here and I didn’t feel like going home.”

Sam amends, “Okay, then I’ll see you at NOVAK later. Go eat or something, drink some water. I’ll be there soon.” They say their goodbyes and then Sam hangs up, leaving Dean in the silence once more.

Castiel lightly raps the fresh box against his palm three times, gently easing out the cigarettes. He pulls one out and sets the box aside, putting the stick between his lips and rummaging through his jacket for a lighter. He curses inwardly when he realises that he stopped carrying one around when he started to quit smoking. He leaves the balcony and goes to find a lighter, getting one from his bedroom. He returns to the balcony and flicks the lighter on, the tiny orange flame wavering in the evening wind just an inch away from his cigarette until his phone vibrates, the screen lighting up with a notification.

 **[14 November 2015, 7:20 PM]  
Bela Talbot:** I’m coming up. Let me in, darling. x

Under the notification is his lock screen — Dean grinning, his hair messy because they’d just made out, and he had a smear of maroon lipstick from the corner of his mouth to his jawline as Gabriel had been putting makeup on Dean all day.

Castiel stares at Dean’s smile, sunny and comforting, and he sighs, shutting the lighter and shoving it back into his jacket. He puts the unlit cigarette back into its pack, leaving it on the small wooden table on the balcony. He goes to the front door and unlocks it, mustering a small smile to welcome Bela in.

Bela instantly narrows her eyes. "You've been crying."

“I can't hide anything from you,” Castiel says, rubbing the back of his neck. He steps to the side to give Bela space to come in and shuts the door behind her.

Bela puts her coat on the coat stand and says, “Tell me what's wrong, Cas." She never called him Cas or Castiel unless she was being serious, she always called him Cassandra because she was the only one who did.

“Dean broke up with me,” Cas sighs shakily. Bela turns to look at him and takes in the sight; his hair is dishevelled and his face, tired. He’s wearing a white button-up that only has the bottom three buttons done and black slacks. He looks like he’d been crying for a while.

Bela cups his face and rests his forehead against her own before pressing a kiss to it. "Oh, Cas. I swear I will beat the fool with my heels."

"It's not his fault," Castiel quickly clarifies. "He talked to his father and his anger got the best of him. I just happened to be in the line of fire. He's as much a victim of John Winchester as I am."

“Well, then I’ll beat this John Winchester with my heels,” Bela remedies, already turning to retrieve her Badgley Mischka's. “Where is he now?”

Castiel pulls her back by her arm, barely rolling his eyes. "Bela, stop. It's fine, okay?"

"You're crying, Cas. None of this is fine," Bela insists. "Maybe I won't beat Dean's father with my shoes but I want to help you. Tell me what you need and it's yours."

"I just want a friend," Castiel says. "I thought of calling my therapist but I think I just want a friend."

"Of course," Bela nods, sitting him down on the couch. She tosses him one of the soft throw pillows and moves to the balcony to shut the windows, noticing the pack of cigarettes on the table. She picks it up and turns to show it to him, raising her eyebrows. "Did you smoke?"

"Almost," Castiel admits reluctantly. "My lock screen stopped me."

Bela doesn't even have to check his phone to know that it's a photo of Dean. She sighs and keeps the pack in her coat pocket so Castiel can't get it back. "You're doing so well, don't fall back into that."

"I'm trying not to," Castiel promises.

Bela shuts the balcony doors and runs off to his room, tucking one pillow under each arm and putting. his duvet over her neck almost like a boa, bringing it over to Castiel. She dumps the pillows in the empty space behind him and the duvet, on Castiel's back, before she goes to his kitchen to grab the tub of cookies and cream ice cream he has. She gets two silver spoons and hands one to him, leaving the ice cream and her spoon on the coffee table as she picks out a movie from his DVD collection.

"I think 'We're The Millers' will be funny to watch," Bela says, raising the DVD up to him. He nods, managing a small smile as she sticks the DVD into the player before getting on the couch next to him. She pulls the duvet over so it hangs over both of them and opens the ice cream tub. "Dig in, darling."

She hits play and keeps cracking jokes through the movie, trying to get him to laugh. Eventually, Castiel ends up cracking at a joke she makes around the middle of the movie, doubling over in laughter as he and Bela eat their ice cream. Thank God Sam texted him beforehand to say they'll be spending the night at Dean's instead. He's grateful to have the night to just him and his best friend.

Sam and Eileen meet Dean in Charlie's office since Dean texted them where to find him. Charlie's office had calming energy to it, featuring Sci-Fi figurines and merchandise as well as a whole bunch of photos of her and her friends. Two of them are of her and Dean, one with Dorothy getting crêpes together and another of her and Dean in a photo booth with wacky stickers and superhero-themed props.

Eileen says, signing as she talks, "I'll give you two some privacy." Dean nods and both men watch her busy herself with looking through the clothes hanging on racks in the hallways.

Once they're alone, Sam walks over to bring Dean into a hug. "I'm sorry about John and Cas."

Dean returns the hug but doesn't keep it for long, breaking it off. It's then that he sees a photo of Charlie and Cas at Fashion Week years ago with a model that Dean doesn't recognise. He pulls his eyes away from Cas's smile. "Yeah."

Sam drags a chair over from another desk and sits near Dean, saying, "Listen, Dean. It's not your fault."

"Feels like it is," Dean mutters, fiddling with the Rubik's Cube on Charlie's desk. He used to be good at these but over the years, his skills had gone horrifically rusty.

"Hey, John fucked you up royally. You get to act like this," Sam insists, folding his arms across the back of the chair as he sits on it backwards. "He's just being a dick and you and Cas are not at fault at all." Sam's phone chooses right then to ring and he gives Dean an apologetic look before pulling it out of his pocket to see who it is. Normally, Sam would turn his phone off but in the case of pressing clients, he couldn't. He frowns when he reads the caller ID and says, "John's on the phone."

Dean inhales sharply but nods anyway. "See what he wants."

Sam gives Dean an uncertain look but picks up, putting it on speaker. "Hello, Dad?"

"Hey, Sammy," John greets semi-amiably, but it's clear in his tone that he wanted to ask about something else. "I wanted to congratulate you again on Eileen and your engagement."

Sam gives Dean a confused look. He says a little roughly, "Thanks, I guess."

John sighs. "You sound bothered."

"I heard what happened with Dean," Sam says and Dean widens his eyes at him, pulling his hand across his neck to tell him to not talk about that. Sam holds up a finger to get him to stop.

"Sam, listen..."

"You don't have the right," Sam cuts over tightly.

John tries to defend himself, "Look, I just don’t trust that Castiel —"

Dean's gaze snaps to Sam's phone. "Son of a —" Sam quickly shushes him, moving the phone out of Dean's reach. When Dean settles, Sam puts it on the edge of Charlie's desk, giving Dean a warning look. He knows what Dean was going to say; John said the same thing about Michael, that he didn't trust him, and now he's saying it about Cas.

"Is that Dean?" John asks.

Sam ignores his question and continues, "If Cas was a Cassie, you wouldn’t be saying shit."

John sucks in a harsh breath. "Don't put words in my mouth, Sam."

Sam throws his hands up in bewilderment. "I’m not doing that! You basically said that to Dean."

Now, John has finally gotten fed up. "Was I wrong? Dean wouldn't be able to —"

"Can you _listen_ to me? Just let me talk. For once in your life, you don't get to control the conversation," Sam disrupts rudely, making John shut up. It just seems like whenever Sam gets angry, people listen. Maybe it's because of how rare it was that he got angry. He has impressive temper control but it probably comes with being a lawyer. "I can tolerate a lot of things, okay? I am willing to take a lot of shit, but what I won’t stand for is you thinking you have a say in who Dean dates. If you approved of Eileen without even meeting her, then I don’t see why Cas should be any different."

John asks quietly, "Dean’s there, isn’t he?"

Sam scoffs and shakes his head. "Does it matter? Whether he’s here or not, I just have one thing to say to you. You’re not invited to my wedding. Lose our numbers."

Sam hangs up after that, and then Dean starts to cry again.

Michael had spent most of the day in the operation room — the surgery was a success and Adam was outside the room by the time he was done to greet him with a congratulatory and long-needed hug. Michael was never one for public displays of affection but it was different with Adam.

Thankfully, Adam could tell Michael was exhausted after the surgery and insisted on getting dinner at the diner near the hospital instead of going home to cook something together. Michael never knew how to say no to Adam and it's not like he has the energy to cook tonight anyway so he agrees. The diner, Three Guys, is open until 9 at night, so it's good that Michael was free by 7:30. Adam and he always waited for the other to be done for the day before eating dinner outside or going back to their apartment to cook together. 

"I'm thinking of getting spaghetti," Adam says, squinting over at the menu propped up over the counter. "They served it today at the hospital but honestly, it looks like it went bad years ago."

Michael chuckles and nods. "Then you should get it. I'll have it too."

"If you insist. I'm gonna ask for more meatballs," Adam replies happily, going ahead to order at the counter. Michael looks around the diner to find them a booth — Adam liked sitting at booths, mostly because he liked the space and privacy — and then he sees Dean with a cup of coffee that's long gone cold. He frowns and squints, trying to make sure it's really Dean before he taps Adam's hand with his own.

When Adam regards him, Michael points at Dean. "It's your brother."

"Hey, it is," Adam says, surprised to see him in Lenox Hill so late in the day. He pats Michael's chest once to beckon him and asks, "Can you go talk to him? I need to tell the server where we'll be sitting."

Michael nods and walks over to Dean's booth, stopping at the table and rapping two fingers against its surface to get his attention. "Dean?" He looks up and Michael instantly frowns at his distraught face. "What's wrong?"

"What are you doing here?" Dean asks instead of answering Michael, straightening up and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Thought you guys worked the night shift on Mondays."

Michael stares at him in concern. "Today is Wednesday."

Dean blinks absently at him before checking his phone. The lock screen is Castiel with a wide grin, a pink feather boa around his neck and decorative glasses in his hair, yet Dean's face crumpled with pain when he saw the photo. He mutters, "What do you know, it _is_ Wednesday."

Michael sits across from him and asks again, "Dean, what happened? What are you doing in Lenox Hill?"

"Look, I'm fine," Dean waves off, clearing his throat when Adam arrives at the table. Michael shifts inwards to the window so Adam can sit next to him and Adam's smile falls off his face when he sees Dean.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Adam asks, worried. "Did something happen to Sam?" At the silence, he tries again. "Castiel?" That gets Dean's jaw working with a million silent thoughts and Michael knows Adam's guessed right. "Talk to me, come on."

"Cas and I broke up last week," Dean finally says, too upset to remember that Adam and Michael didn't know. They probably expected it already anyway. Michael and Adam exchange a look; they had thought about it but never expected any sort of confirmation.

"I thought you two were really close," Adam says, unable to believe that Dean and Castiel, once so happy, had fallen apart so abruptly. Even Michael couldn't despite how they just found out the extent of their relationship.

Dean sighs and sips at his coffee, wincing at how cold it had gone. He tries to avoid looking at the crucifix necklace around Michael's neck. He grips the cup tighter, trying to recollect himself before even attempting to talk. "John wanted to meet the person I was dating so I said I had to check with Cas because he might not have time. He didn't take it so well."

Adam tries to pick up what Dean is putting down. He had a feeling he knew, but he didn't want to believe it. "He didn't like that Castiel was a busy guy?"

"He didn't like that Cas wasn't a woman," Dean clarifies quietly, gaze falling to the cup in his hands.

"Fuck," Adam barely whispers. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"That's not even the worst part, I just got so angry that I —" Dean cuts himself off, realising that his hands are trembling. "Well, I ruined everything." He looks out the window at a teen lesbian couple, walking in the parking lot with sunny grins and arms around each other's shoulders. They look so _happy_ and he felt so devastated. He exhales shakily and says, "Is this why you didn't tell him about Michael? Because you knew this would happen?"

"Dean," Michael tries. He'd never been very good at the emotional side of, well, anything. When he realised he liked Adam as more than a friend, he didn't even know he liked Adam until he had a crisis. And then with asking Adam to be his boyfriend, he barely knew how to go about that and Adam had to finish his question for him. When it came to emotional things, Michael had no clue; Adam has always been his guide. But he felt like he should say something. "Adam didn't know how John would react. He never told him partially because of that uncertainty, but it was because he thought he didn't owe John anything. Sure, John tried to raise him, but he didn't owe him anything. Neither do you." 

Dean sniffs. "I know I don't. But it's just... God, I hate him so much but he was my dad and I thought he was trying to fix things between us, and then he says this is wrong and asks me to hide that part of myself. It got me so angry."

Michael attempts to comfort him, "What little I know about John, I know that he is fairly unreasonable and tends to step on toes without even trying." Adam raises an eyebrow at him and Michael gets to the point, "What I'm trying to say is that your anger was not unwarranted and you have the right to feel the way you do."

"But I hurt Cas and I regret it so bad but I can't keep hiding," Dean almost sobs. "I want to just go to his place, beg him to take me back if he doesn't hate me by now. I haven't turned up for work but he hasn't called to fire me or anything but he probably should, I'm being a shitty assistant and ex; I hate that we're exes, I hate what I did but I can't go on —"

"Take a breath, Dean," Michael says. "In all my years of knowing Castiel, I know he doesn't fire employees if they have a good reason for their actions. He must know that you're torn up about John and what happened between you."

Dean nods slowly. "I'm going back to work tomorrow."

Adam reaches across the table to put his hand over Dean's in comfort. "Hey, if you don't want to, I'm sure he'll understand."

"Three days is already pushing my luck. It's awards season and then Fashion Week in a couple of months, I need to go back. I can't avoid him forever," Dean shakes his head. The waitress arrives to give Adam and Michael their spaghetti before she walks off. His phone vibrates and he looks over at it to read the text message.

 **[17 November 2015, 7:52 PM]  
Gabe:** If you're up to it, you're going to work tomorrow and getting him his coffee like you always do, but you and I are going for lunch tomorrow to talk, no negotiation.

Dean winces. "His brother wants to see me tomorrow."

"Gabriel isn't a harsh guy," Michael assures Dean. Dean lifts his phone screen up to them to read the message and Michael tries again. "He's more bark than bite."

"I hope you're right," Dean mumbles, putting his phone down on its screen. "Sorry to hold you guys up, please eat your spaghetti."

"It's okay," Adam says, though he does stab a forkful of spaghetti. "And we won't tell anyone about you and Castiel. I think you told us on accident."

Dean pauses as if just now realising his blunder and he curses under his breath. "Oh, fuck me. I'm the worst boyfriend ever."

"No, come on, hey," Adam says. "You didn't mean it. You can trust us, alright?"

"Yeah, like this guy's dad didn't sell out my boyfriend," Dean mutters. He looks up instantly at Michael, looking like he'd just slapped the guy. "I mean... I know that wasn't your fault, I was just..."

"I get it. If it makes you feel better, I rarely speak to my father since what happened with Castiel's collection," Michael says. "I would never feed him gossip about him. You have my word." He glances at Adam as if seeking guidance and eventually decides to add, "I am sorry about what happened with your father and know that Adam and I will try our best to help you where we can."

Adam looks impressed — Michael has never been very good at things like this, evidently, but it's obvious to Dean that he tried his best for Adam.

Dean looks between them and runs a hand over his mouth in thought before saying, "You know what? Since John will never do it, I will. You're a part of the family, Michael."

"Thank you," Michael says, almost confused, and it reminds Dean a little bit about Cas and has his heart aching all over again.

Dean ends up feeling a little unwell after being out in Lenox Hill when the snow suddenly began now that it's the first week of December. He didn't see any weather forecast before leaving the house but maybe he should have. Sam insisted on moving into Dean's apartment from Cas's so he could help him out with the breakup and now that he's sick, it's just even more reason for him to do so. Eileen offers to stay with Cas so they won't crowd Dean's small apartment.

Dean doesn't go to work but he tells Sam that he'll be well enough by the afternoon to meet Gabriel for lunch. He felt awful about missing work for the fourth day — he was still trying to carve a career and he's not doing a good job at all — so he wakes up early just to text Cas.

 **[18 November 2015, 8:12 AM]  
Dean:** I can't make it to work today, I'm running a fever.

 **[18 November 2015, 8:15 AM]  
Cas:** It's okay. Get well soon. If you want, I can bring soup.  
**Cas:** Or not.

Dean had no idea why that made him want to cry but it did. He just tells Cas his schedule for the day and promises to come in for work on Friday. He remembers he still has the numbers of those interns and from what he's seen in movies, interns' jobs mostly revolve around fetching coffee, right? So he texts Krissy Chambers and Kaia Nieves Cas's coffee order and asks them to get it for him when he comes into work at 9:30 as always, whoever can get the drink first.

At 9:30, Dean texts Cas again, feeling the need to justify himself. Dean had the thought that talking about it may not be something either of them wants to do, at least not this soon, but he knew they were professional enough and Dean owed Cas an explanation for his absence. He hasn't been a good personal assistant for the first half of the week.

 **[18 November 2015, 9:31 AM]  
Dean:** Sorry I couldn't make it today and most of the week. I'm not trying to avoid you, I guess I just didn't know what to say. You've gone from being my boss to my boyfriend and then not, I guess at some point the employer status was just forgotten. But I will be back on Friday like I told you.

Cas's reply comes half an hour later — he must have been handling business or something. Not that Cas should prioritise his ex-boyfriend's texts.

 **[18 November 2015, 10:06 AM]  
Cas:** I already said it's fine. Just focus on getting better from your fever. I know the snow hit pretty hard last night. And thank you for asking Kaia to get my coffee. You didn't have to.  
**Cas:** And I get what you're saying about the boss to boyfriend thing.  
**Cas:** Can I ask you something?

 **[18 November 2015, 10:09 AM]  
Dean:** What is it?

 **[18 November 2015, 10:14 AM]  
Cas:** Subconsciously, were you upset that I wouldn't come out?  
**Cas:** I've read and seen this before... When out people get mad because they think their partner isn't proud of them.  
**Cas:** Because I am proud that I'm dating you. Me not being out doesn't mean I'm not.

 **[18 November 2015, 10:15 AM]  
Dean:** I know you're proud. It's got nothing to do with that, I promise.

Cas doesn't text anything else after that. Dean would know — he sat there for five minutes staring at his screen like a fool waiting for another text. Nothing comes back.

Gabriel decides to meet Dean in goddamn McDonald’s out of all places to give the ‘you hurt my brother and now I’m going to beat the shit out of you in some back alley with my makeup brushes’ talk but it’s not like he’s known to be conventional.

Gabriel's already ordered a cheeseburger for Dean by the time he manages to make himself look halfway alive. He probably shouldn't meet Gabriel while he has a fever but he's sure Gabe will rain even worse hell on him if he skips out on this lunch.

"Hey, Dean-o. Sit," Gabriel says, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. Dean sits, unsure, and Gabe leans across the table, folding his arms. "So what's the deal, huh?"

Dean struggles. "Gabe, it's not what you think."

"Yeah," Gabe says dismissively. "Did you _have_ to take it out on my brother, though?"

" _No_ , but Gabe, _listen_. It was for me too," Dean defends. "Just look at it from my side, okay? I know it's unfair, I know I was being unfair, but I can't keep acting for people like John anymore. I'm not an actor, man. I'm a designer, and that means my job isn't pretending to be someone else."

Gabriel nods along and he sighs, taking a bite out of a french fry. "Alright... You look kinda sick. If you are, you should have just cancelled on me or something."

"This is more important." Dean shakes his head.

"You're going back to the office tomorrow?" Gabe asks. After Dean hums to affirm his guess, he says, "Please just try to act normal, okay?"

"Yup," Dean says, popping the 'p' awkwardly. He hoped work won't be painful. He trusts Cas to be completely professional and himself to be able to hold up his side of the ruse that everything was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bela's place: https://25parkrow.com/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwu8r4BRCzARIsAA21i_BaiDISROnTepxxgoY1M-7tPkO4oMcqWwJHJ4SopHZ9e3Fc0bVoYMkaAggoEALw_wcB


	16. je veux être avec toi

Give me time and I’ll give you a revolution.  
**Alexander McQueen**

Friday creeps up on him and Dean is determined to make the workplace as normal as possible for both him and Cas.

Dean buys Cas his coffee as always and when he gives it to Cas, he gets an apologetic look back. Cas says, "I assumed that since you were sick, you may have wanted to take Friday off too so I didn't get you any coffee."

"It's fine. You're my boss, you shouldn't be buying me coffee anyway," Dean replies. Cas takes the coffee from him and quickly downs the hot beverage before dumping the paper cup in the bin.

Cas asks, concerned, "Are you sure you're feeling well? You still look a little feverish."

"I'm good," Dean assures. "Alright, so you and Bela have a lunch reservation at 1 at The Modern. You have a photoshoot with her afterwards that you said you were going immediately to from lunch, for Vogue Magazine by Hannah Johnson. After that, I think you and Kevin are meeting to discuss NOVAK's SS16 collection and then you're done for the day."

Cas nods and lists slowly so Dean can keep up, “Please pick up 5 pairs of stilettos from Sergio Rossi by 5 at the latest. Tell Charlie that I want to see her before I leave for lunch and tell Alan Corbett to repair the print machines by tonight or he’s fired.” At Dean’s raised eyebrow, Cas explains, “You weren’t here, it’s been broken the whole week. The polka dot prints come out as leopards, paisley comes out as nailshead and numerous other problems. Kevin is getting restless. He insists that he cannot work until the machines are repaired.”

Dean winces slightly. "How many times did you ask the kid to fix it?"

"Enough times to warrant his termination," Cas answers. "Check if the money I sent to Cole Trenton went through."

Dean stares at him warily. "Who's that? What'd you pay him for?"

"He's the paparazzi who got the photo of you kissing me outside the Sacré-Cœur," Cas says stiffly. He tries to get past that before Dean can say anything in response, adding on, "And get me a meeting with Mark Cain next week."

"Alright." Dean types it into his computer's notes to transcribe with better clarity later on and he brings the conversation back, "I'm sorry, I should have been more careful."

"Not your fault," Cas denies. An uncomfortable silence settles between them and Cas clears his throat. "I'll leave at 12:30 and I'll come back around 4 or 5."

Dean nods and then Cas retreats into his office, where Dean is sure that he wishes he had the building renovated after he acquired it to have the glass walls switched to opaque ones. The next half an hour where Cas is busy figuring out some paperwork in his office and Dean is organising events and answering calls, it consists also of them looking over the top of the papers and laptops to look at each other, glancing away when they get caught.

Dean opens his mouth, thinking he should say something, and Cas abruptly stands up, grabbing his Prada coat. "I'm leaving now."

"It's not even 12 yet," Dean protests.

"Is it? Funny," Cas says, distracted, and he quickly leaves the office without regarding Dean again.

Once Cas disappears down the hallway, Rowena pops up at the door, giving Dean a look of interest. "I can feel it in my bones, boy. What's wrong with you two?"

"We broke up," Dean says once she's close enough. Rowena gapes at him. "And I guess it's obvious we're not doing so well."

"You obviously love him so I don't see why you did," Rowena says, uncomprehending.

"It's... complicated," Dean says weakly.

Rowena stands in front of Dean and rests her hands on his shoulders, bringing him into a hug as he sits. "Complicated is just a word people use when they think there's no solution. With you two, I just know there is always a way. Figure it out."

Castiel and Bela have a photoshoot together that's supposed to be released with an interview they did the earlier in the week when Dean wasn't around. It mostly revolved around their history together when they were still small-time designers, their favourite works and fashion icons and their upcoming collections. Bela had one planned for spring and summer and Cas said he wasn't planning anything for SS15.

They were styled in Max Mara for the shoot; Castiel was put in a blue velvet suit and Bela, in a blue poplin dress. Since Castiel didn't mind wearing womenswear, they decided to just tailor a Max Mara suit to better fit his body shape and settle on the brand. 

The photoshoot is directed by Hannah Johnson, a photographer and art director from Vogue Magazine. Standing about Bela's height with warm blue eyes and brown hair cropped to her shoulders, Hannah seems like a pleasant person. As it turns out, she's a fan of Castiel's work, insisting on getting numerous more solo shots of him than Bela that Castiel had to ask her multiple times to photograph Bela as well. Pamela and Bela's PR stand together at the side, discussing quietly.

Bela leans over at some point during the shoot where they're sitting back to back and whispers into his ear, "I think she likes you, Cas."

Castiel frowns. "What makes you think that?"

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Bela turns so that she is looking in the same direction as Castiel. She points at Hannah, looking at the computer to overview the photographs. "Call her name and watch her melt."

Castiel clicks his tongue, leaning back against Bela. "She does not like me. Idolise, perhaps. But no more than that."

"Maybe your taste leans a bit more towards your side of things but I am telling you that she has a crush on you," Bela insists. "Here, I'll show you." Before Castiel can stop her, Bela calls out, "Hannah, darling?"

Hannah looks up from her computer, eyes flicking to Castiel and then Bela, "Yes?"

"Do you think we need to touch up our makeup?" Bela asks, pointing between herself and Castiel. "It's been a while, they may be a little off by now."

Hannah squints at them and answers, gesturing for the makeup artists to get to work, "I think we could redo your lipstick and eyeshadow, but Castiel is good."

Bela raises both her eyebrows at him and he furrows his own. "I don't see what that has to do with her interest in me."

"Your eyeliner has been smudged for the past fifteen minutes," Bela says. She taps one of the artists and requests, "Can you fix his eyeliner, please? Thank you."

Castiel frowns but looks up at the ceiling so the makeup artist can redo his eyeliner. "So what? You know me. I'm not interested and with..."

"No, I know that," Bela rolls her eyes. "Think about it... This photoshoot and interview was set up by one of your employees, right? A collaboration piece between Marie Claire and Vogue about us and the photographer likes you?"

"This could mean nothing," Cas says, tilting his face to the left so the artist can get the other side. Bela does the same to fix the contour.

"Creative director of Marie Claire, head art director of Vogue and your writer from NOVAK and you think there's nothing strange going on?" Bela leans in closer to whisper into his ear so the artists can't hear. "I'm suggesting that there may be something deeper to this. Your writers don't typically book interviews and shoots for you. I know mine do but yours don't." Cas nods slowly and Bela adds, "Suddenly she gets one with the head of Marie Claire, no less, and the leading art director of Vogue? Her _first_ interview and shoot for you and she got the big players?"

"That does seem quite unrealistic," Castiel admits, casting a glance at Hannah who is now on a call waiting for the makeup to be fixed. "What are you thinking?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone's trying to sell you out," Bela says and Castiel exhales, thinking about what to do. He could leave right now or he could try to get some answers out of her. As if the break up wasn't enough, now he may have a possible company battle. Bela leans forward to look at him before she shoos the makeup artists away to talk privately. "What do you plan to do?"

"The only thing we can do is be sure if you're right or wrong on that but your intuition has never failed me," Castiel ponders.

Bela nods and claps her hands. "Anyone who isn't Hannah, please get out. We want to speak to her alone." Hannah turns to them, eyes widened in surprise, and the other crew members hesitantly leave the studio one by one until it's just the three of them left.

Hannah puts her phone down and grins. "Is there anything I can help you with? Change of setting, of clothes? Anything?"

"Are you working with a writer from NOVAK and the CEO of Marie Claire?" Bela asks as the door clicks shut.

Hannah blinks. "A writer of NOVAK's came to me and Marie Claire to organise this so I suppose you can say we're working together." _Practised answer._

"Which writer?" Castiel asks. He'd only been told of the photoshoot and interview by Pamela since she did PR and was usually the one to book his interviews. It must have slipped Pamela's mind to tell him.

"Hester Garrison," Hannah says. A little reluctantly, Bela and Castiel notice. Hannah quickly adds, "But the interview was arranged by someone else, she was just the messenger."

Bela arches an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Dean Winchester," Hannah answers, eyes darting to the door. "He set this up."

"When did he even do that?" Bela asks, casting a sideways glance at Castiel.

"Last Sunday," Hannah says and Castiel almost just bursts out laughing right then. Of course, he knows Dean couldn't have done it on Sunday. Dean had been busy breaking up with him because of John Winchester.

Castiel says, stepping closer, "He didn't set this shoot up, he was with me on Sunday. Hester, you said?"

Hannah stares speechlessly for a few moments before she pleads, "Castiel, please hear me out." When Castiel doesn't interrupt her, she continues. "Winchester is just using you for your fame and power."

Castiel scoffs. "Who isn't? If you're working for someone, you're hoping to use their name to get you a better job somewhere else. He's been allowed to use me since I hired him. Unless you have anything incriminating to tell me about Dean, we'll be leaving."

Hannah falters. "I love you, Castiel."

"How can you possibly love someone you don't even know? We met _today_ ," Castiel says, dumbfounded. Of course, Bela was right again. Someone who followed his career and life too closely. Castiel isn't even sure if the public image of him was truly that desirable.

"I think we could be good if you gave me a chance," Hannah says.

Bela says, already getting her handbag from the table in the studio, "Sorry, darling. You're not his type."

Hannah asks, hinging on desperate, "What's your type?"

Castiel says, finding it surprisingly easy to admit in the heat of the moment, "Men." Hannah stares at him, unblinking with shock, and Bela laughs, hooking her arm through Castiel's and leading him out of the studio.

"I'm telling you, Wizard of Oz would be funny," Dean says into his phone, looking over Cas's schedule again and comparing it to his notes to make sure he didn't miss anything out. Charlie had called him for help for a date with Dorothy, unable to decide what movie to watch while they have dinner that she'll be making for the both of them. It was a bit of a sting in his chest to plan a date with Charlie so soon after breaking up with a guy Dean was certain he'd end up marrying someday, but she didn't know so it's not like he could tell her not to ask him. The most he could do is be a good friend for her and plan the damn date.

"Would it be too cheesy?" Charlie frets. Dean puts the computer on sleep mode once he was satisfied with the schedule and starts packing his stuff to leave and get the stilettos.

Dean snorts. "No way. I think she'll agree that it's funny." He looks over his table and makes sure he's not forgetting anything and says, "Listen, Charlie. I gotta go pick up some stilettos for Cas. Call me again after your date, tell me how it went?"

"Yeah! Go get those heels," Charlie says, making a kissing sound to the receiver before the line goes dead when she hangs up. Dean pockets his phone and is about to leave when Inias comes in, looking around.

"Can I help you?" Dean asks, narrowing his eyes at Inias. He never really liked the guy after finding out that he and Cas apparently talk more often than he thought they did. Now that they've broken up, Dean knew they were talking a little bit more now. Was he jealous? Maybe.

Inias regards him with hesitation. "I'd rather tell Castiel in private."

"He's out with Bela Talbot, won't be back for at least another two hours," Dean says, looking at his watch. "I can take a message."

"No, I think I'll just call him," Inias says.

Patience limited these days and mild jealousy rendering his patience to a moot point, Dean snaps, "Look, unless you're dating him, there's no need to be all secretive about it." Inias stares at him, taken aback by his outburst, and Dean sighs. "I'm sorry, I'm just... kinda antsy. What is it?"

Inias considers it before he walks over to his desk, leaning closer to speak in a hushed voice. "My sister wants to kick Castiel out of the company."

"Hester _what_?" Dean almost explodes again. As if the breakup isn't a big enough blow to Cas's morale, now he has Hester Garrison to deal with?

Inias bites his lip before continuing, "She intends to steal ownership of NOVAK and she's conspiring with an art director from Vogue and the creative director from Marie Claire, Naomi Intel. I believe the Vogue director is called Hannah."

"Fuck, he has a photoshoot with her today," Dean curses. This is obviously more important than a bunch of stilettos so Dean sits back down at his desk. "Alright, we can stop them. What do they plan to do?"

"I'm unsure, I only came to give a warning," Inias says. "The only other things I know about are that the director might be targeting you as well and that Naomi wants to hit Castiel with an accusation of stealing the fall collection from Leviathan."

"Son of a bitch," Dean grumbles. "I'll handle Naomi. What the hell is Hannah's problem with me?"

"She likes Castiel a little more than is comfortable," Inias answers, looking like he's anticipating Dean to blow up. "And he's closer to you than anyone else, even Ms Talbot."

"So, what? Hannah's jealous of me?" Dean almost laughs. He ruined everything with Cas last week, what the hell would she have to be jealous of?

Inias blinks blankly. "Yes, that is what I'm trying to tell you. She will probably try to convince Castiel into firing you during the photo shoot. She's misguided by her 'feelings'. Hannah thinks she knows him through the news and whatnot, loves that image of him. She'll be desperate."

Dean nods slowly, the gears in his brain shifting as he thinks. "So I need to stop Naomi from printing the article."

"It's not that easy," Inias says. "Naomi is hard to convince, she has a heart of stone if she even has one."

"If I could get Lucian Morningstar to take his article down, I can get Naomi to do it too," Dean says, grabbing his jacket. He scribbles with one hand, fitting his other arm through a jacket sleeve and passes the note to Inias, asking, "Can you pick this up for me? I need to deal with Naomi and Cas will be back in a while."

"Of course," Inias says, taking the note from him. "Good luck, Dean."

"Thanks, man," Dean says, taking his phone. He pauses at the doorway and turns back to Inias. "Just curious. Are you and Cas, you know... Dating?"

Inias flushes red. "No, he's just been helping me with my portfolio. I was thinking about applying at YSL."

Dean can't be more embarrassed. "Right. Awkward. Okay. I'm gonna go now." He quickly leaves the office, narrowing his eyes when he sees Meg disappear into the elevator.

Meg had wanted to pay Castiel's office a visit to ask his opinion on a custom design for Najwa Nimri, a white dress. Instead, she finds out about Hester Garrison and her intentions to get Cas kicked out of his own company. Meg had to force herself not to laugh out loud. NOVAK has Cas's name slapped across it and she wants to take charge? Does she think Cas's employee's loyalties belong to NOVAK or to Castiel and does she really think they would listen to her? Did she even figure out what to do once Cas was out of the business?

She runs off before Dean leaves the office, deciding to get to Naomi Intel first. She's the creative director of Marie Claire magazine and Meg knows she doesn't budge easy. She and Lucian Morningstar might be some of the most ruthless magazine directors ever. Meg is half-convinced that _The Devil Wears Prada_ was inspired by them.

She hails a taxi to take her to Naomi's office at Hearst Tower in Manhattan. Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, Harper's Bazaar, Esquire and Seventeen were housed there which may make navigation difficult. Thankfully, Meg knows her way around and Dean doesn't, which means she's going to beat him to Naomi.

Thankfully, it doesn't take very long to find Naomi who has just walked out of her office. Meg calls out, "Will Miranda Priestley stop walking?"

Naomi stops and turns around, wearing a thin smile. "I've seen you before. Meg Masters, right? Designer at NOVAK."

Meg uses the tip of her boot to push her office door open, holding out an arm to tell her to go in. "And you're the one who wants to royally fuck over my boss. We should talk."

Naomi looks at her watch. "If you're done being ridiculous, I have to get moving. I have an important meeting." Scoffing, Meg walks into her office and pushes the phone off of the desk. Naomi stares at her. "What are you trying to do?"

"You got a kid, right? Bet this is how they get what they want," Meg says simply, taking a contract and ripping it in half, letting it glide to the white tiled floor.

Naomi twitches. "That's a $100,000 contract."

Meg nods, uncaring as she sits on Naomi's desk. She takes the pen holder, throwing each pen across the room like darts. The plastic clatters against the floor and she says, "I can keep going or you could talk to me." She uses the heel of her boot to kick open the desk drawer, pulling out a hole puncher.

As she raises it to a window, Naomi quickly walks in, slamming the office door behind her. "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? Put that down right now."

"Not so hard to just listen to me, right?" Meg smiles. If there's anything she knew how to do, it was getting people to hear her when she wants to be heard. Even if it means trashing Naomi's office. Was it unprofessional? Yes. Did Meg care? Well, if Hester came into power of NOVAK, Meg would be fired immediately because they don't get along, and Meg cares more about her career than Naomi's. So no, she didn't care if it was unprofessional.

Naomi puts her handbag down on the desk next to Meg, glaring at her. "Well, spit it out. I don't have all day."

"I don't know what you're planning to do, but you can either tell Hester and Hannah to back the fuck out from whatever they're supposed to do or I can sell dirt about you to Morningstar," Meg says.

Naomi frowns, knitting her eyebrows together in annoyance. "What dirt?"

Meg thanks everything that one of her friends could get dirt on anyone. Crowley isn't just known for being a good stylist and designer, but also within the industry as someone who knew a little something about everyone or at least most people. Meg leans in obnoxiously close and whispers, "Somebody thought it would be fun to appropriate culture for Halloween three years ago and I bet it'll be a real kick in the ass to see that slapped on the front cover of Dark Angel magazine."

Naomi's face goes white and she curses tightly, "You fucking _bastard_."

"Now, I don't have photos but I know someone who does and they can get them to me before you can call security. The pictures will be with Lucian before I'm out of the building. Your face in that costume will be on the front cover of Dark Angel before Castiel gets kicked out of NOVAK." Meg smiles sweetly, crossing one leg on the table. "You fuck with my boss, you fuck with me."

Naomi runs a hand over her face, muttering, "I thought we had that scrubbed from the Internet. How could you possibly have those?"

"Clearly, you didn't scrub hard enough," Meg says. "So are you going to back off or do I have to email the devil?"

Naomi glares at her like she's killed her family and Meg fucking loves it. Putting Naomi in her place, Meg is on top of the world. She finally relents, angry, "Fine." She takes her phone out of her handbag and types into it, showing Meg a text sent to both the other women reading 'It's off.'

Meg grins, patting her on her cheek. "Nice doing business with you, Blondie."

Meg leaves the office and sends Lucian the images anyway. It's too bad for Naomi that most of her customers are from China. They're gonna get a fucking kick out of the photos.

Dean spends ten minutes checking around Marie Claire's part of the Hearst Tower before he finally locates Naomi's office. He'd left as fast as he could after Inias filled him in but there's only so much you can do when there's barely any cabs and there's like five magazines in the tower. Dean was desperate to resolve this for Cas — he owed Cas after breaking up with him and it would eat him alive if he didn't stop Naomi in time. He just hoped that Cas would give Dean a little more credit and not believe anything Hannah tells him.

When he enters the office, the phone is toppled on the floor along with scattered pens and a torn piece of paper. Naomi sits at her desk, staring at her phone, looking completely distressed. She notices Dean at the doorway and rolls her eyes.

"Masters already did your job," Naomi grumbles bitterly. "The guard dog may leave now."

He thought Dick was joking but Dean guesses his nickname among the big figures really is Cas's guard dog. He doesn't really care about that. Dean asks, "So you stopped the article?"

"Yes," Naomi hisses. "The article is destroyed, alright? Irretrievable even in code. It's gone. Do you just go around asking magazine CEOs to take down pieces about Castiel? Do you have nothing better to do?"

"Well, it's my job," Dean says.

Naomi scowls at him. "Get out of my office."

Dean nods and takes out his phone, checking a text from Crowley — a link to an article and ' _You'll like this_.' He reads the headline and his eyes go wide, turning the phone to face the screen towards Naomi. He nearly laughs. "Won't be your office for long. Can't wait to see the corporate apology. Is it coming tomorrow or tonight?"

Naomi throws the pen holder at him and he ducks out of the office, laughing all the way to the elevator.

When Dean comes back to the NOVAK building, he's not surprised to see Meg waiting for him in his and Cas's office, looking triumphant. While glad that Naomi has been handled, a part of him feared that if it Meg hadn't decided to try and one-up him, he would've been too late to stop Naomi and he'd have to watch as Cas's career crumbled for things he didn't even do. It rests in his gut, uneasy, and by the time he's back at the office, the weight of that and the guilt and grief from the break-up have long dampened his mood into resigned defeat.

"Hey, Meg," Dean greets flatly.

"I beat you," Meg says, flashing him a smile.

Numb, Dean just nods. "You did."

Meg stares at him, her victory tasting bitter in her mouth at Dean's lacklustre response to it, and she rolls her eyes. "You make it so hard to lord something over you." She crosses her arms and leans against the closed door. "What's the problem?"

Dean huffs a short laugh. "What do you care? I thought you hated me."

"The runway's old shit, I've been over it for months," Meg scoffs. "Turns out that resentment is kinda boring after a while."

"Then why didn't you talk to me after that?" Dean asks.

"Pride or whatever," Meg says dismissively. "Look, I'm not a therapist. Either tell me what's going on or I'll just go."

"I'm in love with Cas," Dean says. It's not implicating Cas in any way and it was true. Meg raises an eyebrow; not out of surprise, but intrigue. "I love him and I need him, but I just screw shit up."

Meg shifts in her leather jacket, getting comfortable. "What did you do?"

Dean lies, staring at his hands, "I didn't want him to know how I felt so I ended up going off on him."

Meg winces. "Ouch, Winchester. Did you say sorry? Heard that helps."

"I told him it wasn't his fault," Dean answers. "It's just a big mess."

Meg pushes off the door and goes to sit on the desk next to Dean instead. She offers, "In my experience, Clarence is pretty sweet, he'll be over it soon. If you're in love with the guy, you should, I don't know, try?"

 _Try_. Dean barely laughs. He's been trying at everything for years but it's never enough. He always feels like he's trying to compensate for things he shouldn't have to. He asks with a forced smile, "You think it's that easy, huh?"

"Well, yeah," Meg shrugs. "Look, we all see the way you look at the boss man. The way you talk to or about him, the lengths you go to save him. I mean, if I didn't beat you to it, you would have handled this Naomi shit and he wouldn't have had to deal with it himself. And I heard about what happened with you and Dick Roman, and then that thing with Morningstar and his magazine. Don't know what that's about, but I know it's not easy to get him to budge. Motherfucker doesn't do shit for anyone so you must have had some balls to go up against him on your first day." Dean laughs and Meg smiles, resting her arm over Dean's shoulder.

"I was just being a good P.A," Dean says, looking down at his shoes. Meg watches him with a thoughtful stare.

"Listen, I've been a P.A before and never did that much," Meg nudges his shoulder with her own. "Be honest. Were you in love with him since the first day or what?"

Dean thought about it. "No."

Meg lifts her hands up, palms facing up like scales, tipping them up and down as if weighing something. "Letting him take the piss on you and then panicking about it, but you risk your rep in the industry to blackmail one of the biggest magazines in the world. But yeah, you didn't love him."

Dean nods slowly as he thinks about it. "I didn't love him then. He was cold and he fired people for tiny mistakes. His coffee order is painfully specific. He wants a hundred things done within an hour. He gets angry even faster than I do and he didn't know how to say 'sorry."

Meg frowns and asks, "You sure you love him?"

Dean grins, more to himself than anything, as he continues, "Then I got to know him. He likes dancing in the rain. He learned French because he was bored. He has this unshakeable faith. He can be kind and he remembers your coffee order after hearing it once. He —" Dean stops himself before he says anything that could imply a relationship more friendly than one of a boss and employee should be and just smiles. "Cas is just... really great."

Meg ponders it quietly. She's never liked the emotional side of things, preferring to keep things black and white. Even with Bela, Meg and she had made it clear that it's a no strings attached kind of situation — clear-cut. But she listens to Dean and she understands.

She sighs and says, "Damn, Winchester. Just marry the man already. Get a ring or something, he'll probably say yes if he heard all the things you just told me."

Dean lets out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, right. I told you I messed it up."

Meg rolls her eyes. "So? Messes get cleaned up. Get off your lazy ass."

Castiel and Bela reported Hannah to Vogue and because she didn't do any real damage, she had only been issued a warning which was fine with both of them. Hannah seemed pretty harmless in general if only a little misguided. Castiel thought that since she didn't end up ruining his and Dean's careers, she should probably be allowed the chance to be set on the right path.

When Castiel comes back to his office, Bela in tow with the sun already beginning to set, he sees Inias, Dean and Meg waiting for him. A cup of coffee, still steaming, is in Dean's hands and Castiel doesn't dare think it's for him so he doesn't acknowledge it. He asks, putting his bag down on his chair, "Is this about Hester?"

"I took care of Naomi," Meg says, nodding to affirm Castiel's question.

"Thank you," Castiel says, giving her a small smile.

Bela grins at her. "You leaked Crowley's dirt on her." Meg quirks an eyebrow and smirks, shrugging as if to say it was what she deserved.

"What about Hannah?" Dean asks.

Castiel answers, sorting out papers on his desk to avoid looking at Dean. "She tried to convince me that you were the one trying to push me out of my own company. I didn't believe her, of course."

"Why?" Dean looks puzzled for some reason. They dated for close to a year and he thought Castiel wouldn't know him by now?

Castiel says, finally pulling his gaze up to meet Dean's. "I know you would never do that to me. Besides, she said you arranged the interview on Sunday." That's enough to shut Dean up and he tears his eyes away from Castiel's to look at Bela and Meg instead.

"And Hester?" Meg questions.

A knock on the door interrupts them — Hester and Inias Garrison. Her face is even more irritating than before now that Castiel knows what ill intentions she had for him. Inias bows his head once and leaves; Castiel asked him to get Hester to his office. Though he didn't intend for so many people in the office with them when Hester arrived, it won't stop him from saying what he wanted to say.

"You wanted to see me?" Hester asks.

"You're fired," Castiel says simply. "Get out."

Hester blinks at him, looking confounded. "I'm fired?"

"I won't repeat myself," Castiel says.

Meg jeers, grinning, "You heard him, get the fuck outta here." Hester searches for words to say, nothing coming to mind, and she just silently leaves the office. Meg nods, satisfied, and says, "What a day."

"Let's go get something to eat. I wanted to try the new cake at the café opposite here," Bela says, tugging on Meg's arm and not-so-subtly nodding towards Dean and Castiel. Meg catches onto what she's saying and lets Bela lead her out of the office, leaving just Dean and Castiel alone.

Dean says clumsily, "So I guess Bela and Meg are back on again, huh?"

Castiel sighs. "Please don't make this awkward. It's painful enough as it is."

"Sorry," Dean mumbles, rubbing his neck. It feels really hot in the office despite the air conditioning.

"I'm surprised Meg got to Naomi before you," Castiel says. Maybe his attempt at a joke to ease the tension but it falls a little flat.

"I know, I just kept thinking about that. If she didn't try to get back at me for the runway, I might have gotten there too late and she would have printed the article —"

"Dean," Castiel cuts over. "You tried anyway. Thank you."

Dean nods and holds out the coffee cup. "I got you coffee."

"Thank you," Castiel repeats, taking it from him. Their fingers bump on the cup and they linger, both holding the cup as their fingers rest on one another. Subconsciously, Dean's thumb strokes Cas's and they move closer, like magnets. For a moment, Castiel forgets that he doesn't have a place in Dean's personal space anymore, and remembering the fact is jarring.

He takes a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't get you coffee. I thought you'd have gone home with your fever, I was going to bring soup over once I got home."

Dean thinks of something to say, somehow lost for words, and he says, "Cas, I'm so sorry, I —"

"Stop," Castiel says before Dean can add anything else. The wound was still too fresh. "Go home, Dean. Get some rest."

"It's been a long time," Kelly says as a way of greeting, a warm smile on her face. "How have you been, Castiel?"

"A lot has happened," Castiel says, taking a seat on the couch in Kelly's office. Quiet babbling from behind Kelly's desk makes Castiel frown in confusion.

Kelly explains sheepishly, "I apologise, I know it's not professional but I couldn't find someone to watch Jack. The nanny backed out last minute so I had to bring him to work. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," Castiel assures, watching as the young boy crawls out from behind the table and staring at him. Castiel squints at him and cocks his head, smiling when Jack echoes his actions.

Kelly clicks her pen and props her clipboard on her knee crossed over her other leg. "How have you been?"

Jack ambles over clumsily to stand next to Kelly's chair, still looking at Castiel. Castiel answers, "I've told more people. I told my best friend, and Dean's brother and his fiancé. I told someone I only met for the first time that day and it felt so..." Castiel finds more accurate words. "For once, the words didn't feel like a weight. It felt liberating when I told that person."

Kelly writes down his progress for her notes, looking up proudly at him. "Are you ready to tell me, then?"

Castiel takes a breath and lets the words come tumbling out of his lips before he can think about it. "I'm gay." The more times he came out to people, the easier the words became. It's almost like muscle memory, in some way.

Jack babbles something vaguely similar to 'I'm gay', though it ends up sounding like 'Am bay'. Kelly grins widely and asks, "Do you mind if I hug you?" Castiel shakes his head, spreading his arms and letting Kelly pull him into a tender hug. "I'm really proud of you, Castiel. You've made so much progress and I hope you are proud of yourself too."

"I am," Castiel says honestly. Jack hugs his leg, only tall enough to reach his knees, and giggles. Castiel runs a hand through his blonde hair and smiles. "I'm proud of myself."


	17. une déclaration d’amour

_Change is a great and horrible thing, and people love it or hate it at the same time. Without change, however, you just don’t move._  
**Marc Jacobs**

After Christmas and New Year — both of which Dean had barely celebrated because of the absence of Cas — Sam and Eileen had intended to fly back to Stanford. However, the snow for the start of 2016 got so bad that the possibility of catching a safe flight was questionable so they were allowed to stay in New York until it lightened up enough to go back. Thankfully, there are substitute teachers and Sam’s casework can be emailed to him.

The holidays had been lacklustre at best despite Sam and Eileen’s best efforts to keep Dean’s spirits high throughout. Sam splurged a little bit to get him a karaoke machine for Christmas, to which Dean insisted that he should have saved the money for the wedding instead. Sam and Eileen obviously decided to move into Dean’s apartment instead since staying at Cas’s would have been too awkward. The night after they broke up, they’d moved.

Dean had mailed Cas cufflinks shaped like two birds as a Christmas present. It had been a reference to a song Cas had shown him once, Two Birds by Regina Spektor. He thought the lyrics suited them. The website he bought them from listed the cufflinks as lovebirds, but he hoped Cas won’t make the connection. He’d written a long note detailing how sorry he still was about the breakup even though it’s been over a month since that happened in which apologies quickly dissolved into desperate paragraphs on how much he loved Cas and that he would give him the whole universe if that’s what it took to show him that. Then he’d crumpled up the note and shoved it into a drawer, replacing it with one that only says:

_Merry Xmas, Cas._

_Dean_

On Christmas afternoon, he’d gotten a present mailed from Cas — a mixtape of mostly old songs and some fairly recent. Dean can’t help but note that Cas had consciously avoided putting love songs on the cassette, only leaving one or two romantic tracks, but a mixtape is a tender gesture. His came with a short note saying almost the same thing as Dean’s, a simple:

_Merry Christmas, Dean, and happy new year. Here are some songs that I hoped you would like._

_Castiel_

Listening to the tape and knowing how hard it is to put one together, Dean feels like his present didn’t match up to Cas’s and he felt bad about it, so he spent the next two hours baking a small cake to bring to Cas. Cas had invited him in, where Gabriel, Anna and Bela were already there to celebrate the holiday with him. Dean turns him down achingly and goes back. It’s not fair to either of them. He had Sam and Eileen and already invited Adam and Michael over anyway.

Cas thanked him for the cake and for a moment, leaned forward as if thinking about kissing him on the cheek, but withdrew and told him to have a good holiday.

Michael and Adam were able to get Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve off from work to celebrate with Dean, Sam and Eileen. Dean could tell they felt bad that Cas wasn’t there but it was for the best. Adam was excited for his first Christmas with Sam and Dean and got them fairly expensive presents; a Nanoleaf Rhythm device that lights up to the beat of the music you’re playing and a costly bottle of Cabernet Shiraz 2017. That purchase has Adam going on a rant about how it’s absurd that there are bottles of wine over $100,000, and Dean thinking about how Cas would have appreciated the good wine.

Dean lamented the absence of Cas’s lips on his when they counted down on New Year’s Eve. At 12, he sent him a drunken text saying ‘happ new yrs cas i lve u so bad’ and had gotten a short ‘Get off your phone and sleep early. I’ll call tomorrow to check on you’ back.

He did call but Dean had felt too awful to pick up so Sam did; Cas gave him excessive advice on caring for a hungover Dean, and Dean regretted not picking up. Hearing Cas’s voice would have cured his hangover right away.

Either way, he made his bed and he had to sleep in it, whether he was used to it or not.

The first week back at work is hectic, everyone scrambling to get started on Fashion Week pieces. Designers like Meg and Balthazar submit ideas to Cas and all the designers work closely with Gabriel and the makeup artists and stylists to come up with a good look together.

Dean had spent most of December sketching ideas for the Fashion Week runway too. He’d come to a final design proposal for Sam and Eileen’s wedding wear, the one he’d worked on in Paris with Cas’s help. They adored it and Dean promised to start working on the attire when the NOVAK building reopened. Kevin was excited to offer his help, knowing more about materials than Dean did, so Dean readily accepted his help.

Dean greets Cas with his cup of coffee to see that Cas has one in his hand already.

Cas puts the cup down on Dean’s desk, saying, “I asked for your drink to be hotter so it wouldn’t get too cold on the way here. If it’s not warm anymore, someone in the cafeteria can heat it up for you.”

Dean’s mouth falls open. “You _walked_ in this weather? It’s like 15 degrees and your coat isn’t even thick!” Before Cas can say anything, Dean puts the cup down and shrugs off his coat, a good heat-resistant one from Mission Workshop. He urges Cas to take his normal Prada coat off and drapes his over Cas’s shoulders, dusting snow out of Cas’s dark hair and giving him his coffee. “Drink, I kept it hot.”

Cas nods, unable to find something to say, and sips at his coffee. He closes his eyes to savour the heat in his mouth, feeling it warm him up.

Dean shakes his head. “Jesus, Cas. In _that_ coat, you walked here? That won’t keep you warm in _summer_.”

”I couldn’t find a cab once I left the café,” Cas explains, letting the cup sit in his hands to heat up his palms, watching the steam rise from its surface. “The office wasn’t that far so I decided to walk the rest of the way.”

”You could have called me! I’d come and get you, you know I come to work early,” Dean says. He straightens the coat over Cas’s shoulders and takes the cup out of his hands so he can hold them. He rubs Cas’s hands between his own to warm him up with body heat. “I’ll go turn up the heat, your hands are freezing.”

”Dean, you don’t have to,” Cas starts.

”I can’t work if my boss gets sick and I like working,” Dean counters, turning the heat up in their office.

Cas offers a small smile. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean grins, stopping in front of him and picking up his cup. “Morning, Cas.”

”I have some work for you,” Cas says and Dean takes a gulp of his coffee before grabbing a pen and his planner. “Have the designers put their proposals on my desk by 3 today, with or without clothing samples. Giambattista Valli is in NYC next week and I need a meeting with him. Check with Zhou Yang Jie when I need to come by to collect my shoes from him. Arrange for Toni Bevell to come by for fitting this week. Can you cancel the lunch with Phoebe Philo on Thursday and replace her with Crowley, she’s gotten sick and can’t make it. Pick up 20 scarves from Hermés by tomorrow and the polaroids from the winter shoot. That’s all.”

Dean writes it down in bullet points, nodding along to show that he’s listening. Before Cas can walk into his part of the office, Dean calls out, “I want to pass you something.”

Cas stops and turns around. “What is it?”

Dean pulls out a packet of torn out pages from his sketchbook, explaining, “I did some designs for Fashion Week and thought I could maybe submit them. If you don’t want to take them, it’s cool. I know I’m not a designer for NOVAK but I thought I could just give it a shot.”

Cas smiles, something soft and sunny, taking the packet from him. “I’ll go through them. Thank you for trusting me with these.”

It almost feels like normal, and Dean’s hands ache to hold Cas’s.

"What about this one?" Gabriel asks, putting down his makeup brush and turning his face to the rest of them to show the makeup look he has planned for one of the designs Castiel had approved for Fashion Week.

Bela steps back to look at Gabriel's eye makeup and nods. "That one's good, I like that one. Love the eyeliner."

"Could use more blue," Crowley comments. Castiel had invited Bela, Crowley and Gabriel over to discuss their Fashion Week works — Bela and Crowley for Crossroads and not NOVAK. Though they did ask one another for opinions.

Castiel says, pointing to Crowley in agreement. "I think a line of pink would do it well."

Gabriel goes back to painting his face and Bela turns on the television. When Castiel cocks his head at her in confusion, she explains, "My friend from the New York Times said there's gonna be a press conference from your president in a bit."

"What for?" Crowley questions, looking up from the sketches he was going over with Castiel. Castiel gets up to pour himself a glass of water.

"Why, Crowley, I don't work in the Pentagon, do I? How should I know? We'll have to wait and see," Bela says, walking over to see the sketches as well. She picks up one of them and says, "I love this one. Please tell me you're going to approve it. Who designed this? Doesn't look like Bal or Meg's style."

"Dean did," Castiel answers, putting down the water pitcher so he can hold his mug with two hands. "All his sketches are fantastic."

"No shit?" Gabriel asks, placing his brush on the coffee table so he can come to see the designs too. " _No shit_!"

Castiel barely smiles and walks back to the main part of the living room to watch the news. They announce a press conference by the president and the other three quickly move to the couch to see what it's about. He sits on the armrest next to Bela. The president comes up on the screen, camera flashes going off on his face as he speaks.

" _This morning, the Supreme Court recognised that the constitution guarantees marriage equality._ "

Castiel cannot feel his hands.

Bela and Gabriel's mouths fall open and Bela grabs one of Castiel's hands in her own, laughing in joy, "Oh my God. They legalised it."

"They did it," Crowley echoes in disbelief.

" _In doing so, they've reaffirmed that all Americans are entitled to the equal protection of the law. That all people should be treated equally, regardless of who they are or who they love,_ " the president says, but Castiel feels numb yet overly sensitive all over. He wonders if Dean is watching the news right now, what he thinks of it. He wonders if everyone he knows is watching. They must be.

Castiel doesn't feel out of place. He feels tears streaking down his face.

"Bro, holy shit," Gabriel gapes, looking over at Cas. He moves to him and pulls his little brother into a tight hug, Castiel's cheek pressed against Gabriel's chest. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm dreaming," Castiel says, watching the president talk on the screen. His mouth is moving but Castiel doesn't hear any of it. Bela joins in the hug and eventually, Crowley does too.

Dean has a few squares of different materials taped to his sketchbook, showing them to Sam and Eileen as he explains. He shows three nude-coloured cloths to Eileen, signing as he talks, “I was tied between satin and charmeuse. Satin for wedding dresses is usually pure silk, polyester or a blend of both, up to you. Charmeuse drapes beautifully and is basically silk too. Charmeuse looks gorgeous but satin works better on a body. But I think lace would be good.”

“I think I’ll go with the lace, I trust your judgement,” Eileen decides, taking the sample square to stroke the silk. Sam smiles to show that he’s listening as he scrolls through his phone waiting for his turn to discuss his wedding suit.

Dean nods, writing it down next to the sketch and then raising two more squares. “These are organza and tulle. So I’m thinking that some tulle would look good on your dress. I checked with Kevin and he said you could go and visit Vera Wang with him to check out the material better...”

Sam suddenly pats Dean on his arm to get his attention, eyed glued to his screen. “Dean, oh my God.”

Dean grins, swatting his hand away. “Jeez, Sammy. Didn’t think Vera Wang would get you this excited but —“

"What? No." Sam's face twists in bewilderment. "Look at the news."

Sam raises his phone to Dean’s face and he reads the headline of the article once. Then again. And once more. He mutters, “Am I dreaming?”

Eileen looks up from her own phone, having looked it up, and she grins, shaking her head. "All real."

Dean takes the phone from Sam’s hands to read through the transcript of the president’s conference, hands tingling as he scrolls. “No fucking way. I’m dreaming.” The Imperial March theme plays on Dean’s phone — Charlie’s personalised ringtone — and Dean stares. “Oh shit. I’m not dreaming.”

He returns the phone to Sam so he can pick up Charlie’s call. “Charlie, I —”

“Dean! Oh my God, I can’t breathe, I’m so excited!” Charlie practically squeals from the other end. “You and Castiel are close, can you please ask him if he’ll let us party at work tomorrow? Please, please, please.”

Dean laughs, nodding and trying but failing to blink away tears. “I’ll ask him right now. You wanna go out and get some drinks tonight?”

“Only if I can bring Dorothy,” Charlie says, voice still shaky with emotion.

“Bring her. I’ll see you later,” Dean agrees, hanging up and calling Cas. It picks up after one ring.

“Dean?”

“Did you see the news?” Dean asks, looking back at Sam and Eileen who seem to be texting people about it. Sam gets on a call with Adam.

“I did,” Cas answers, grin audible in his voice. “I can’t believe it.”

Dean listens to the way his voice wavers and he asks, “Are you crying?”

“No.” Cas sniffs. “Yes. Are you?”

Dean huffs a laugh and wipes a stray tear off his cheek with his knuckles. “Little bit, yeah. Cas, Charlie and I wanted to celebrate at work tomorrow. Your call, obviously.”

"We can have a party at work," Cas approves.

"Thanks, Cas. You're the best," Dean grins, glancing over at Sam and Eileen who sign to him that they want to come too. "Sam and Eileen want to be invited."

Cas says, "You may invite them and Adam and Michael if you like. But the invitations are only for you."

"Thanks," Dean says again. A moment passes between them, coming down from their high a little bit at a time, and Dean says, "You know, I always thought I would marry you but we couldn’t because it wasn't legal and now..." Sam's gaze snaps to Dean as he says that and he signs 'Are you crazy?' at him. Dean swats him away.

Cas deliberates. "Well, it’s legal."

"It's legal." Dean echoes absently.

A beat lasts a second too long and Cas says, "I'll see you tomorrow, Dean. Don’t party too hard before tomorrow."

"Only if you don't, angel," Dean grins and Cas chuckles before hanging up. Dean turns to Sam. "What?"

"You break up with him and then you talk about how you wanted to marry him, are you crazy?" Sam asks, watching Dean with an absurd look, and Dean realises he'd forgotten all about that while talking to Cas.

Sam had been signing while he talked so Eileen could follow with ease so she asks, "Dean, what are you going to do at the party tomorrow?"

"I don't know," Dean says, defeated. "The only thing I know is that I love him and I want him back more than anything."

"If you want him, go get him," Eileen encourages. If Dean hadn't been so hateful of the idea of one step forward, two steps back, he might have thought it would be that easy too.

Expectedly, Charlie comes to work donning a pride-themed Levi's trucker jacket over a lesbian flag-striped tee. She has on regular shorts and a pair of Converse's pride sneakers. She greets Dean with a hug and a kiss on both his cheeks. "I don't even care if I look awful today. I'm way too excited."

"I get that," Dean grins, pulling away from her hug. Cas had told the employees that whoever wanted to attend the party could come into work in the evening and that he was giving everyone the day off. Most of the employees decided to come to the party except for some whose workloads were either too much for one day away or they wanted to celebrate somewhere else.

Dean himself had on a pie-themed bi pride hoodie from LookHUMAN and a regular pair of jeans. Simple and maybe not fashionable but like Charlie, he just couldn't care less. He felt like a billion fucking dollars.

"Hello, Charlie!" Bela's bright voice greets them as her heels click down the pavement, Crowley following close behind. Dean guesses Cas invited them to the party. too. She kisses Charlie on both cheeks and simply hugs Dean. "And you, of course. Hi, Dean."

Bela is dressed looking classy as always, wearing a coat that looks like an ordinary trench coat on the outside, but Bela is obviously excited about it. She says, raising one end of the coat, "Look under! Thierry Mugler's coat is just wonderful." Underneath it is an explosion of colourful firework-like patterns. It's beautiful under the streetlights in the dark. Charlie loses her mind about it, gushing about how she wants to get the coat too, and then Crowley and her go into the building, leaving Bela and Dean outside alone.

"Is your brother here too?" Bela asks casually and Dean waves to Kevin who had just arrived, watching him disappear through the front doors to catch up with Charlie.

"Yeah, they're already in there. I just came out here to see Charlie before I lose her in a crowd," Dean says. "My other brother and his boyfriend are here too, Cas gave me the green light to invite them."

"I'd love to meet them," she says conversationally. "Will you do anything tonight?"

Dean raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Bela clarifies, "Cassandra."

"I don't know what you want me to do in front of all the people here tonight," Dean says, watching as five employees who work down in admin walk past them into the building, laughing over a joke. "I'd never put Cas in a position where he'd be uncomfortable."

"I know you won't, I trust you. You love the little angel with all your heart, I can see that clearly," Bela says. "I just mean that it's a pride party, could be a chance to talk to a more free Castiel. You —" Bela cuts herself off, tapping Dean on the shoulder and points down the street. “Dean, is that your father?”

Dean follows her finger and frowns, straightening up. John was on his way to the NOVAK building which means he’ll reach them in seconds. It seems like he’d already spotted Dean. “Yeah. I don’t know why he would be here.”

“Well, I’m not complaining.” Bela walks over to John and asks, “Excuse me, are you John Winchester?”

John looks surprised. “I am. Who are you?”

“Bela, I’m a friend of Dean and Castiel’s,” Bela says sweetly, gesturing to Dean before she slaps John. Dean’s mouth falls open as John recovers — Bela slaps _hard_ for such a petite woman — and Bela smiles. “That’s for being a colossal fool.” Before John could react, she turns him around by his shoulders and he just looks so discombobulated that Dean almost laughs. "Now walk away and don't come back. You're not welcome."

"You're a woman on a mission," Dean jokes when John walks away. He watches his back get more and more distant, leaving his life with a more permanent absence this time, but Dean feels at peace, not left behind. " _That's_ a slap."

"I promised Cassandra that I would beat the man with my heels but my hand will have to do. I'm not taking my heels off in this weather, there's snow on the floor," Bela says, regarding the coat of white on the floor with distaste. Dean just laughs, looping an arm over Bela's shoulder and directing them both into the building to get out of the falling snow.

Castiel has never seen all his employees in one place before. They're always dispersed at their respective floors and rooms in the building, not assembled like this. It's almost staggering just how many there are, and how many actually turned up to celebrate the legalisation. He'd seen Sam and Eileen come in earlier on and greeted them, then he'd met Adam and Michael again. At least this time, he got to have a conversation with Adam that wasn't about Dean, and one with Michael that isn't about business or his father.

Adam and Michael are excited about it, most of all Michael — much to the surprise of Castiel, Michael's the one with a diamond ring and a question for Adam even though he's the more emotionally aloof between the two. He said he wouldn't ask Adam tonight; Michael hated public proposals because they seem so pressurising, so he'd rather wait until they're alone. Castiel gives him his sincere congratulations because he can't imagine an outcome where Adam says no.

Charlie is probably the most thrilled person in the building and Castiel likes seeing her so happy. It's not like her happy is a rare sight, but it was always pleasant to behold. Gabriel comes in pansexual-themed makeup; pink, blue and yellow eyeshadow. Majority of his out employees wore something indicative of their sexuality to the party.

Castiel wears the shoes Dean bought for him, the ones with the rainbow flag near the heel, and the bird cufflinks he gave him for Christmas. They're practically unnoticeable but Dean will know he wore them and that's all he really cares about.

He had invited Crowley, Bela and Kelly to the party too. Kelly agreed to come, bringing Jack along. Jack has on an adorable rainbow beanie over his soft blonde hair that has Castiel internally melting and Kelly had a rainbow wristband on. Crowley had come in with Charlie, wearing a wristband as well, except this one has pansexual colours instead of a rainbow.

After a 5-minute wait that's too agonising for Castiel's comfort, he finally sees Dean walk in, laughing with Bela. Castiel's mouth is dry. Dean looks really good.

Dean's gaze drags across the room until he finds Castiel's eyes and for a few seconds, there's nobody else but them, and Castiel almost wants to move forward until Adam and Sam talk to him and pull his attention away. Bela comes straight to him.

"Hello, Cassandra," Bela greets happily, bringing him into a hug. "Let it be known that I did not know you had this many employees."

"Honestly, neither did I," Castiel agrees, barely smiling in amusement but unable to give it his all when he's looking at Dean. He's in just a pie-themed bisexual pride hoodie and jeans but he looks like he always did to Cas — completely beautiful.

Bela follows his gaze and sighs, drawing Castiel close with her arm. "Talk to him. You know you want to."

"I do," Castiel admits, gently stirring the drink in his hands. "I want to... I will."

Bela cups his cheeks between gentle hands, giving him a look so sincere that nobody would believe she was the same relentless businesswoman the media painted her as. She smiles and says, "He loves you, I can see it in his eyes. And I know you love him too. So just talk to him, please."

Castiel nods and once Bela turns away to talk to Pamela and Missouri, he downs his glass of champagne hoping to turn the liquid to courage.

"Cassie!" Gabriel calls, coming up to him with Crowley and Anna with him. "Are you gonna give a speech later? My models were wondering."

"I should," Castiel says, nodding minutely.

Anna rubs his arm in comfort. "Are you nervous about giving a talk? You never liked talking in crowds if it's not at the runway."

"I'll manage," Castiel assures.

Castiel gets one more drink. Not enough to get drunk because he promised Dean that he wouldn't drink so much anymore, but tipsy enough to have conscious courage.

An hour passes where Castiel somehow doesn't cross paths with Dean. Every time they try to reach each other in the masses, someone pulls them away. Castiel has been getting progressively more anxious at the prospect of being unable to talk to Dean once before he has to give a celebratory speech of some sort to his employees and friends. Dean relaxed him. Despite the distance between them, he always did.

Eventually, Castiel doesn't think he can push back a speech anymore and everyone quietens to listen to him. Over the years, Castiel has tried to use his company for good, donating a portion of their profits to LGBT+ charities and youth homes. NOVAK has always been a supporter of the community so it was no surprise they wanted to hear what Castiel had to say about yesterday's announcement.

Dean gives him an easy smile, like a bold stroke of gold on a sea of silver. So many good souls in the room but Dean was the most precious to him.

"First of all, thank you for coming tonight," Castiel opens. "Yesterday, it was a big step towards a better world for all of us. I am beyond happy about what happened. I know all of us here have been waiting for this for years. Some are more enthusiastic than others." Charlie whoops loudly, causing some dispersed laughter. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we are all proud to be here today."

 _We are all proud_ , Castiel finds Dean's eyes in the crowd again. The only man confident enough to love him publicly and to love him completely; all his flaws and his mistakes — Dean never cared about any of it and he just loved Cas for Cas.

All eyes upon him, uncomprehendingly engraving themselves into his spine as they waited for anything else Castiel has to say.

Castiel has grown tired of fighting who he is, who he should get to be with no shame, so he’s standing down from the fight and giving in to the tide. Only then could he ebb and Dean can flow and he has never felt this strong to talk about it. His shame kills what’s best in his life but he is proud. Today, Castiel is prouder than he has ever been. He feels almost powerful and invincible, and the words tumble out of his lips.

”I thought fashion was the most important thing to me but it’s not,” Castiel says. Dean blinks and cocks his head, a habit that Castiel has realised that Dean picked up from him. “In 2014, I met someone who took over my life, even more than fashion ever has. And those who know me know that I am nothing without my career. This person... they’re really important to me and I care so much about them. If I wasn’t so frustratingly repressed, I’d give them everything.”

Castiel tries to convey every inch of sincerity in his gaze and Dean’s mouth falls open like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, waiting for Castiel to continue.

”I care about them so much, I want them to have everything they want. I — I _love_ them and if I keep hiding, I’ll never... I’ll miss out. I’ll lose them and I don’t want to lose...” Castiel trails off from rambling. There are people whispering among each other, wondering who their boss loved this much. “I’m sorry. I’m taking a page from your book, I’m not going to hide anymore. If I did, then this wouldn’t be love. It’d be this disposable thing not worth fighting for and that’s not what this is. You make me braver than I have ever been in my whole life, make me feel more alive than anything I have ever known.”

Cas walks and he doesn’t stop until he reaches Dean, holding his breath. Quietly, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Dean doesn’t even answer, pulling Cas into a kiss and feeling his hands come up to cup his cheeks. Dean forgets that there are people standing all around them and Cas no longer cares. In this room, in this universe, it is just them, and as it turns out, it is that easy.

By the time the next week rolls around, Sam and Eileen are back in Stanford finalising wedding details, Dean has the first prototypes of their wedding attire done up and Adam calls Sam and Dean to break the news that he’s now engaged to Michael who had proposed to him over dinner, just the two of them.

By the time that week comes to an end, every magazine has Castiel on the cover with varying headlines. Castiel walks past the newsstands and scrolls past the articles and when the paparazzi follow him and Dean, he doesn’t answer but he holds Dean’s hand. It’s a new world that Castiel has decided to enter and Dean was happy to help him get through the rough waters to the calm.

Castiel was finally out and free and as it appears, it wasn’t as scary as he remembered it to be. After practising with friends and family, the words had finally grown comfortable in his mouth and in his heart.

With Kelly and his friends’ help, it had made it all easier and with Dean there, the world felt so safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Castiel’s tape for Dean here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1iH77XykDabE3v08tXLyPa?si=2S72HPrbTCq5PFc3yvyk-Q
> 
> Also! I know gay marriage in America was legalised in mid-2015 and not early 2016 but it didn’t fit into my timeline unless I crammed everything so hopefully you don’t mind the slight discrepancy.


	18. bonjour, mon ange

A little Crisco and some fishing wire and we’ll be in business.  
**The Devil Wears Prada**

**Christmas, 2015**

The note Dean never sent:

_Merry Christmas, Cas. I got you some cufflinks and I hope you’ll like them. It's like that song you showed me._

_I know Christmas is supposed to be happy but honestly, I’m not so happy when you’re not with me. I have Sam and Eileen here to spend the holidays (and even Adam and Michael) but it just isn’t the same when you’re not here too. Which is weird because I’ve seen you practically every day since last November but here we are._

_I know I didn’t do right by you but I wasn’t sure I would be doing right by me either._

_God, I know what it looks like. I know it looks like I don’t care or that my comfort is more important than yours but that is not what this is. Not by a long shot._

_I love you so much. Sometimes I think I love you too much._

_It’s funny that the things that once annoyed me about you became things I loved. As time passed, I saw you change; you smoke and drink a lot less, if at all, and you don’t lose your shit immediately anymore. And you seem a lot happier._

_Please don’t think I don’t care. I do. More than anything, I do._

_I fucked up big time but I know I need this freedom and I am willing to wait for you. But don’t think our distance means I no longer love you because I think I always will._

_I don’t know how to show you how much I —_

_Cas, if I could, I would give you the whole universe. I would tear time and space apart if it means I can show you how much I love you._

_Okay. Jesus, this dragged on._

_Merry Christmas, Cas. Hope 2016 is better for both of us._

_Dean_

"You know, for the life of me, I can't remember a single time you ever wore green," Dean says offhandedly. He's lying on Cas's bed, his head tipped over the end of it to look at Cas who was sitting on the floor by the bed.

Cas looks up from his sketchbook at Dean. "What does it matter if I've worn green or not?"

Dean turns over so he's lying on his stomach instead of on his back and cards his fingers through Cas's dark hair. He explains, "I just think it's weird because the only green things in your apartment are your sunflowers and you've never worn anything green, at least not in front of me. When we buy clothes, you don't even spare green pieces a glance."

Cas raises an eyebrow. "So?"

" _So_ ," Dean drags out the syllable thoughtfully. "I think it's weird because you said green is your favourite colour."

Turning to face Dean completely, Cas casts him a fascinated look. "You remember that?"

Dean smiles. "I remember everything you tell me." Before Cas can react to that, Dean asks, "So why is green your favourite colour?"

"At the risk of sounding very cheesy," Cas says slowly. "Look in the mirror."

Dean frowns in confusion though he does stand to move to the mirror in Cas's room. "What are you talking about?" He looks at his reflection and when he sees his green eyes, he understands. "Oh."

"Yeah," Cas says almost awkwardly.

"But we barely only started to get along then," Dean says, unable to tear his gaze away from his eyes in the reflection.

"Truth be told, I didn't have a favourite colour until you said green. You just seemed so excited about it that I went with it," Cas says quietly. "And your eyes were green... I did say I really liked you. Despite everything, I did like you. I just wasn't very good at showing it."

Dean chuckles, finally looking back at Cas. "I can tell. You threatened to fire me multiple times, sir."

"Well, I didn't, did I?" Cas huffs defensively, returning his attention back to his sketches.

"You didn't," Dean smiles fondly.

Adam and Michael invite Dean and Cas out for lunch on a Sunday, claiming to have missed them. It's just as well because Dean hasn't seen him since the time he came over to Dean's place to talk about how unaware Michael is regarding the intricacies of planning a wedding. Fifteen minutes of complaining about Michael not knowing why the decorations being blue or cream matters that much, Adam then went on a twenty-minute talk about how Michael was so cute when doing cake-testing and that he can't wait to get married.

"I've been waiting for this since university," Adam had said because that was when he'd met and started dating Michael. They had a pretty good love story but Dean liked to claim that title for him and Cas.

The first thing he notices is that Michael looks _happy_ which is a weird look on his face because Dean is used to him being generally stone-faced. He teases, sliding into his side of the diner booth as Cas goes in after him, "Someone's all cheery."

"The wedding's just a few months away so he's getting excited," Adam jokes. "How are you two?"

"Aside from relentless paparazzi, I'd say we're doing just fine," Cas smiles. "The Fashion Week pieces are almost ready for the runways."

"Speaking of which, Michael had an idea," Adam chimed in, looking to Michael.

Michael proposes, "I thought that you two should collaborate on a collection."

Dean and Cas stare at each other at the suggestion and Dean asks, "Do you want to?"

Cas cracks a smile. "I'd love to."

That's how the two of them spent the next seven months working on a collection together. It's not a big one, only carrying about 16 outfits, but it was their first collection. NOVAK released it in place of the Fall/Winter collection for 2016, titling it NOVAK x Dean Winchester. Each of them helmed 8 pieces and when they came to each other with their inspirations, they'd started laughing because they've been designing pieces inspired by the other.

The collection took off; a major fashion label and a well-know designer on social media releasing a collection together, it shouldn't be much of a surprise, especially with all the efforts Rowena took to make sure it was promoted properly. She had her reputation as an excellent marketing director for a reason. Dean could not be more grateful that he managed to secure Rowena on his first day at work.

Yet, even though Rowena had assured them that there was no way the collection could possibly flop, they still celebrated when it sold out. Sam called to congratulate him and Dean promised to mail a few pieces to him and Eileen who now had a baby on the way. They said it was a boy which has Dean bargaining to have the kid named after him.

(They name their son William. Dean tells him his son's gonna grow up to be a nerd.)

**February 2017**

_Two no-foam skimmed lattes with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk._

Dean and Cas sip at their respective coffee cups, both with the same arduous order. While they shared most of everything, the one thing they could never share was coffee. Dean had learned how to take his coffee as hot as Cas did, though he still had to blow on the surface before sipping.

Once he dumps his empty coffee cup in the trash can, he takes out his notebook and Cas starts rattling off, "I need you to stand in for Nathaniel in today's photoshoot later. He's fallen sick and I don't have time to find another model to replace him and the photographer suggested to take you instead. Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean agrees. Over the past year, as Dean started gaining attention for the collection he did with Cas and freelance pieces he did and posted to Twitter, Dean also rose in fame and started being in photoshoots. He apparently had pleasant enough features to be a model. While he did do some shoots here and there, designing and styling were where his passion laid.

"That's at 2 today at the studio," Cas details. "RSVP for Adam and Michael's wedding." Dean can't help but grin at that and writes it down.

Cas says, "And please send up Josephine Barnes from the lobby, I was told she's wearing a maroon blazer."

Dean nods, writing everything down except for the part about Josephine. "Alright, I'll bring her up immediately. Anything else?"

"There is one last thing you can do for me." Cas stops in front of Dean's desk and he looks up expectantly. "Clear out your desk."

Dean pauses. "Am I changing offices?"

Cas explains, reaching for a folded up cardboard box by the door, "Josephine will be using it, she's my new assistant."

Dean catches on and protests, "But you already have me."

"Well, I can’t possibly have another business owner as my assistant, that’s just disrespectful," Cas says, unfolding the box and putting Dean's notebook in.

Dean watches Cas put his things into the box. "What are you talking about?"

"You made a collection with me, it’s only right that you become your own label," Cas says, putting Dean's pens into the box and looking up at him. "Dean Winchester, you are now a designer for your own name."

He blinks, processing. "You're shitting me."

"I am not... shitting you." Cas says, hesitating at 'shitting you'. "I put in some money for a small office for you to do business in. It's only small because you're just starting out but when you get more employees and clients, you'll get to buy bigger offices and one day, a building. I'll help you the whole way. Congratulations, Dean. I look forward to collaborating with you as a brand."

"God, I love you," Dean laughs, framing Cas's face with his hands to pull him in for a kiss.

Cas murmurs against his lips, "We're at work, Dean."

"Uh, no. _You're_ at work. I don't work here," Dean mutters back and Cas gives in.

"I want to hear you say it," Cas says, glaring at Dean with so much poison in his eyes that Dean could drop dead. "I want to hear you say you lied."

Dean raises the whisk at Cas protectively. "I thought it was gonna be easy!"

"This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life," Cas grumbles, looking at the Dean's notebook of recipes again. "I don't understand how this is supposed to become _that_." Cas taps the wooden spoon in his hand to the bowl with cake mixture and then to the page where it has a photo of a beautiful cake taped to it.

"Duh, you have to bake," Dean rolls his eyes, lowering the whisk and moving to the bowl. "If you would just let me mix this."

"Okay, _okay_. Fine, Gordon Ramsay," Cas says, throwing his hands up in exasperation and shifting aside so Dean has room to work on the mixture. He adds ingredients and does it all without referring to the recipe. "How do you remember all that?"

"The same way you remember how to sew different materials together," Dean shrugs as he answers, finally putting the batter into the oven once he got it in the cake mould.

Cas looks around the kitchen and asks, "What now?"

"While we wait, let's get the icing ready," Dean suggests, opening the fridge. He'd gotten started on it beforehand so all Cas and he had left to do was just put it into piping bags.

Cas struggles with it because apparently while he's a genius with a needle, he's an idiot with a spatula. Dean offers, "Hey, I'll help you out. C'mere."

"No," Cas mutters, getting the icing on his hands. "I got this."

"You got this," Dean echoes sarcastically. "Give me the spatula, I'll put it in the bag."

Cas raises his iced hand and pats Dean's cheek, leaving blue icing on his face. Dean gapes at him, "How dare you?" Cas grins, raising his hands like he's asking 'what are you gonna do?'. Dean lunges for the container with the icing and gets some, managing to streak some on Cas's neck as he tries to dodge.

"No!" Cas gasps, backing away. Dean reaches for him again and tries to lick the icing off his neck which has Cas losing his mind, laughing until they both end up on the kitchen floor, a little bit of flour from a slightly toppled bag dusts over them like light snow.

Cas exhales, his breath tickling Dean's cheeks, and he smiles. "Move in with me."

"What?" Dean asks, almost out of breath from their playful fighting.

Cas sits up to look down at Dean, fully in view. His dark hair is messy, cheeks rosy, and a smile so beautiful that it strikes Dean like lightning. "Move in with me. You're always over anyway and I have space."

"Okay," Dean grins. "You could help me pack tomorrow."

"I could put up all your photos in our room with mine," Cas follows.

Dean says, "You'll have another key made."

Cas adds, feeling giddy, "The kitchen will finally be used."

"We'll get a bigger bed," Dean continues.

"I get to wake up next to you," Cas says happily and Dean smiles at him, the same way Cas had smiled when Dean said he was his boyfriend. It's such a gorgeous smile, he is a picture of happiness and crooked imperfection and Cas just loves him so bad.

"I'm going to start cleaning up," Cas says, kissing the tip of Dean's nose before getting up to start cleaning the kitchen. He leaves to get a rag and Dean sits up, looking at the messy kitchen. He sees his reflection, dark in the oven door, icing smeared across his cheek and frosting at the edges of his hair and he laughs.

It worked out after all.

"Where do you want these?" Cas asks, holding up a stack of cooking books that he'd piled from the now-empty bookshelf.

"That box is fine," Dean answers, pointing to one of the unsealed boxes. Cas nods, bringing it over to put the books in. True to his word, Cas spent the whole Sunday helping Dean pack his things into boxes. Some things Dean no longer wanted like a Rubik's Cube that no longer turns in one of the rows and the remaining half of the bottle that John brought that time, Dean decided to not take with him. It's a good drink but Dean hated the memory. He didn't bother finishing the rest of it.

They were now just clearing out shelves and were almost done with it. As Dean moves the CDs into the same box, Cas gets started on his closet, the last thing they had left on their list of things Dean needed to pack up. 

"I'm assuming you're taking all of this," Cas says when he opens the closet doors.

"Do you have room?" Dean asks, looking up from sealing the box.

"I can buy a bigger wardrobe or another one." Cas shrugs, beginning to take clothes off of their hangers and folding them. With Dean, it becomes quick work — they make a game out of it where whoever folds their half of the clothes the fastest gets to pick their side of the bed. After half an hour, all of Dean's garments are sealed in boxes and sat by the doorway.

Dean huffs a breath, looking at the stacks of boxes. "It's done."

"It's done," Cas echoes, smiling lazily.

Dean looks at the vacant apartment, boxes piled up on the side. He moved in with a new job and no friends and now he was moving out with a boyfriend, a newfound brother, new friends and his own label. It’s funny how things come full circle sometimes.

Cas leans against the doorway, glancing over the empty space thoughtfully, and asks, “Are you ready?”

Dean nods, truly and completely happy for the first time in his life. “Yeah. Let’s go home, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. It's been such a pleasure to write this and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I have an idea for a spin-off of this for Adam and Michael about when they met in university but I'm not sure how many people would read it so do let me know if you would be interested in that.  
> Edit: It's now up on my page, titled Dorm 522! You can also find it in the series, Designers and Doctors.


	19. links to all clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here are links to all the clothes/accessories featured in the fic, either for you to check out for yourself or get to visualise what the characters were actually wearing.
> 
> Here is a link to a thread with the photos for easier viewing: https://twitter.com/70squill/status/1261367588904480769?s=20

[ **Novak Wears Prada's playlist** ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7A7nU6Ufjmm9pAFMlsaINV?si=HXQHpcfcQwORQKbBY02TxA)

[ **The mixtape Castiel made for Dean** ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1iH77XykDabE3v08tXLyPa?si=yGTgXKs_QzWs7lwoDwgwsQ)

* * *

**1: le coupe de foudre - love at first sight**

[Dean's Led Zeppelin jacket](https://www.ebay.com/itm/Led-Zeppelin-varsity-jacket-medium-L-XL-2XL-3XL-free-live-CD/123819168583)

[Dean's Dior denim jacket](https://www.dior.com/en_us/products/couture-013D482B226X_C580-raw-blue-dior-oblique-motif-stretch-cotton-denim-jacket)

[Dean's Vivienne Westwood jacket](https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/men/clothing/coats-and-jackets/hypnos-jacket-mint%2Fblack-mint%2Fblack-3401000511256O201.html?cgid=men-clothing-jackets#page=1&start=15)

[Dean's Ferragamo loafers](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/salvatore-ferragamo-asten-bit-loafer-men/5168783)

[Dean's Louis Vuitton coat](https://us.louisvuitton.com/eng-us/products/archive-pocket-blouson-nvprod1780222v)

[Charlie's Oscar de la Renta trench coat](https://www.oscardelarenta.com/shop/p/fil-coupe-trench-coat-20079?categoryid=2393)

[Charlie's Louboutin sandals](http://us.christianlouboutin.com/us_en/shop/women/loubi-bee.html)

[Kevin's Vivienne Westwood jacket](https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/men/clothing/waistcoat-jacket-green-stripes-green-stripes-S25BN0451S52671002F.html?cgid=men-clothing#page=1&start=16)

[Kevin's Vivienne Westwood trousers](https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/men/clothing/trousers/classic-samurai-trousers-green-stripes-green-stripes-S25KA0631S52671002F.html?cgid=men-clothing-trousers#page=1&start=7)

[Charlie's Chanel fit](https://www.chanel.com/us/fashion/p/20S-PODIUM-021/look-21/) [SS2020, look 21]

Castiel's Prada coat [removed from online store]

[Castiel's Givenchy tuxedo](https://www.givenchy.com/apac/en/slim-fit-tuxedo-in-wool-and-mohair-with-satin-collar/BM101M100H-001.html)

[Kevin's H&M fit](https://www2.hm.com/en_us/productpage.0818059002.html)

[Dean's Ralph Lauren suit](https://www.ralphlauren.co.uk/en/gregory-wool-sharkskin-suit-442239.html?dwvar442239_colorname=Grey%20Multi&cgid=men-clothing-suits-tailoring&webcat=Men%2FClothing%2FSuits#start=1&cgid=men-clothing-suits-tailoring)

**2: ma foi - my faith**

[Castiel's Armani coat](https://www.armani.com/us/armanicom/giorgio-armani/cashmere-jacket-with-velvet-lapels_cod41932934he.html#dept=cts)

[Castiel's Valentino Coat](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/coats_cod16494023980360034.html#dept=US_Coats-Outerwear_M)

**3: brûler - burn**

[Mary’s Chanel jacket](https://www.chanel.com/us/fashion/p/20C-PODIUM-003/look-3/)

[Dean’s Anthony Squires coat](https://anthonysquires.com.au/sportcoats-blazers/archer-49.html)

[Dean’s Levi’s jeans](https://www.levi.com/GB/en_GB/clothing/men/jeans/502-regular-taper-jeans---flex/p/295070515)

[Castiel’s Burberry fit](https://us.burberry.com/cargo-pocket-detail-cashmere-silk-trench-coat-p45590971)

[Dean’s Dolce & Gabbana tuxedo](https://us.dolcegabbana.com/en/men/clothing/coats-and-blazers/jacquard-maiolica-tuxedo-jacket-maiolica-print-G2OI6TIS1CZHF1MU.html)

[Dean’s Dolce & Gabbana jacket](https://us.dolcegabbana.com/en/men/clothing/coats-and-blazers/sicilia-jacket-in-cordonnet-lace-black-G2MA8THLMD9N0000.html)

[Dean’s Jimmy Choo loafers](https://row.jimmychoo.com/en/men/shoes/marti/black-soft-nappa-leather-loafers-MARTIRES010003.html)

[Dean’s Manolo Blahnik derbies](https://www.manoloblahnik.com/jp/mejorelle-25046.html)

[Charlie’s Narciso Rodriguez gown](https://www.narcisorodriguez.com/spring-2020)

[Castiel’s Prada suit](https://www.prada.com/ww/en/men/ready_to_wear/suits/products.light_mohair_single-breasted_suit.UAE482_1P3Z_F0D65_S_201.html)

**4: pleuvoir - rain**

[Dean’s Louis Vuitton fit](https://uk.louisvuitton.com/eng-gb/products/precollection-spring-summer-2020-look-04-nvprod1910074v) [Pre-SS2020, look 4]

[Eileen’s Oscar de la Renta dress](https://www.oscardelarenta.com/shop/p/chain-embroidered-cocktail-dress-19934)

[Dean’s Marc Jacobs track jacket](https://www.marcjacobs.com/the-track-jacket/V2000008.html?dwvar_V2000008_color=001)

[Dean’s Marc Jacobs track pants](https://www.marcjacobs.com/the-track-pant/V4000006.html?dwvar_V4000006_color=001)

[Dean’s Marc Jacobs shirt](https://www.marcjacobs.com/magda-archer-x-the-mens-silk-shirt-marc-jacobs/V6000033.html?dwvar_V6000033_color=001)

Castiel’s Prada coat [removed from online store]

[Castiel’s Ralph Lauren suit](https://www.ralphlauren.com/men-clothing-suits/kent-glen-plaid-twill-suit/505887.html)

**5: mon homme - my man**

[Castiel's Yves Saint Laurent fit](https://www.ysl.com/us/saint-laurent/shop-product/men/springsummer20_looks_m_section) [SS2020, look 10]

[Dean's Yves Saint Laurent duffle bag](https://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/bags-sac-de-jour-men-sac-de-jour-72h-duffle-bag-in-grained-leather_cod45409863ab.html#dept=men_bags_sac_de_jour)

[Dean's Yves Saint Laurent wallet](https://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/leather-goods-saint-laurent-paris-slg-tiny-monogram-eastwest-wallet-in-shiny-leather_cod22007711ci.html#dept=men_leather_small_wallets)

[Castiel's Yves Saint Laurent boots](https://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/shoes-classic-boots-wyatt-harness-boots-in-smooth-leather_cod11729877il.html#dept=men_shoes_boots)

[Castiel's Yves Saint Laurent scarf](https://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/silk-and-hats-skinny-ties-short-lavalliere-scarf-in-wool-etamine-with-studs_cod46677737aq.html#dept=men_silkm)

**6: désolée - sorry**

[Dean's Versace suit](https://www.versace.com/us/en-us/men/clothing/blazers-suits/barocco-brocade-blazer-a4030/A85285-A232851_A4030.html?cgid=220101#start=1)

[Castiel's Armani jacket](https://www.armani.com/us/armanicom/emporio-armani/double-breasted-jacket-in-bark-effect-jacquard_cod41941218oq.html)

[Castiel's Armani trousers](https://www.armani.com/my/armanicom/emporio-armani/jersey-fleece-trousers-with-logo-patch_cod13446748jd.html)

[Dean's Vivienne Westwood round-neck](https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/men/clothing/roundneck-knit-red%2Ffuchsia-red%2Ffuchsia-S25HA0455S17230254M.html?cgid=men-clothing#page=1&start=5)

[Dean's Vivienne Westwood jeans](https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/men/clothing/trousers/classic-tapered-jeans-blue%2Fblack-denim-blue-black-2802002510579K001.html?cgid=men-clothing-trousers#page=1&start=11)

[Balthazar's Bvlgari ring](https://www.bulgari.com/en-sg/349924.html)

[Sam's Christian Lacroix coat](https://www.christian-lacroix.com/homme-ah1920) [look 4]

**7: bisou - kiss**

[Dean's Tommy Hilfiger peacoat](https://usa.tommy.com/en/men/mens-hilfiger-collection/crest-embroidery-peacoat-re00476)

[Dean's Dolce & Gabbana shirt](https://us.dolcegabbana.com/en/men/clothing/shirts/shirt-with-pin-up-patch-beige-G5HN2TFU5K9M2827.html?cgid=men-apparel-shirts#page=1&start=1)

[Dean's Dolce & Gabbana cargo pants](https://us.dolcegabbana.com/en/men/clothing/trousers-and-shorts/high-waisted-cotton-cargo-pants-beige-GYHBATFU6WIM0160.html?cgid=men-apparel-pants#page=1&start=6)

[Dean's Jimmy Choo loafers](https://row.jimmychoo.com/en/men/shoes/marti/navy-velvet-suede-loafers-MARTISVV040014.html?cgid=men-shoes#cgid=men-shoes&start=1)

[Castiel's Givenchy fit](https://www.givenchy.com/apac/en/spring-summer-2020/men-summer/) [SS2020]

[Dean's Burberry fit](https://us.burberry.com/mens-spring-summer-2020-runway-looks/#look33) [SS2020, look 33]

[Castiel's Burberry fit](https://us.burberry.com/mens-spring-summer-2020-runway-looks/#look28) [SS2020, look 28]

**8: tu veux sortir avec moi? - will you go out with me?**

[Castiel's Fendi fit](https://www.fendi.com/us/jacket-black-gabardine-blazer/p-fj0587a9bmf18ft%20) [removed from online store]

[Charlie's Chanel perfume](https://www.chanel.com/us/fragrance/p/125530/n5-eau-de-parfum-spray/)

[Balthazar's Hugo Boss cologne](https://www.hugoboss.com/hugo-energise-eau-de-toilette-125ml/hbeu58000191_999.html?cgid=675100)

[Charlie's Max Mara trench coat](https://us.maxmara.com/p-1121080806001-aloe-beige)

[Dean's Burberry fit](https://us.burberry.com/cotton-gabardine-field-jacket-p80249541)

[Castiel's Michael Kors jacket](https://www.michaelkors.global/en_SG/leather-moto-jacket/_/R-CS08CBZ42A)

[Castiel's H&M shirt](https://www2.hm.com/en_gb/productpage.0836997005.html)

[Castiel's H&M trousers](https://www2.hm.com/en_gb/productpage.0732188002.html)

[Dean's Vivienne Westwood shirt](https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/men/clothing/army-shirt-mint%2Fblack-mint%2Fblack-3501000211256O201.html?cgid=men-clothing#prefn1=customFilter4&prefv1=Knitwear%7CTops&page=1&start=12)

[Dean's American Apparel sweatpants](https://americanapparel.com/men/pants/)

[Castiel's Prada shirt](https://www.prada.com/ca/en/men/ready_to_wear/shirts/products.nylon_gabardine_shirt_with_epaulettes.SC491_I18_F0002_S_192.html)

[Castiel's Prada trousers](https://www.prada.com/ca/en/men/ready_to_wear/trousers_and_bermudas/products.stretch_gabardine_trousers.SPE12_1GQS_F0008_S_172.html)

**9: tournesol - sunflower**

[Castiel's Yves Saint Laurent jacket](https://www.ysl.com/gb/shop-product/men/ready-to-wear-casual-jackets-officer-satin-bomber-jacket_cod15007236fk.html#dept=men_rtw_view_all)

**10: amant - lover**

[Castiel's Max Mara blazer](https://world.maxmara.com/p-5041070706001-fischio-navy)

[Castiel's Max Mara trousers](https://world.maxmara.com/p-9131040206005-circeo-ultramarine)

[Castiel's Max Mara blouse](https://world.maxmara.com/p-6111050706001-atri-ultramarine)

**11: copain - boyfriend**

[Dean's Billionaire Boys Club jacket](https://www.bbcicecream.com/collections/billionaire-boys-club/products/fatigued-jacket)

[Crowley's Billionaire Boys Club jacket](https://www.bbcicecream.com/collections/billionaire-boys-club/products/homeroom-jacket)

[Dean's PRPS jacket](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/prps-paint-splatter-denim-jacket/product/0400012396677?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306418197&R=190173611483&P_name=PRPS&N=306418197&bmUID=n8mZNPi)

[Dean's HUGO jacket](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/hugo-metallic-bomber-jacket/product/0400012020107?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306418197&R=754117263512&P_name=HUGO&N=306418197&bmUID=n8nVBsr)

[Dean's john Varvatos jacket](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/john-varvatos-tracker-distressed-jacket/product/0400012327320?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306418197&R=190802783147&P_name=John+Varvatos&N=306418197&bmUID=n8LXJSS)

[Dean's Louis Vuitton shirt](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/blazers_cod16494023980354991.html#dept=US_Coats-Outerwear_M)

[Castiel's Valentino jacket](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/shirts_cod16494023980351397.html#dept=US_Shirts_M)

[Castiel's Valentino shirt](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/pants_cod16494023980359618.html)

[Dean's Calvin Klein sportcoat](https://www.lordandtaylor.com/calvin-klein-check-wool-blend-sportcoat/product/0500089725834?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374302024045&R=887096024529&P_name=Calvin+Klein&N=302024045&bmUID=n8X8FlI)

[Chuck's Alexander McQueen tuxedo](https://www.alexandermcqueen.com/sg/alexandermcqueen/jacket_cod41931105fg.html#dept=mjckts)

[Chuck's Alexander McQueen shirt](https://www.alexandermcqueen.com/sg/alexandermcqueen/shirts_cod38877858it.html)

[Castiel's Fall Collection dress](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/fashionshow/women/haute-couture-fall-winter-2019-20#&gid=1&pid=53) [Valentino Fall 19/20, look 53]

[Castiel's Fall Collection dress](https://www.valentino.com/en-us/fashionshow/women/haute-couture-fall-winter-2019-20#&gid=1&pid=21) [Valentino Fall 19/20, look 21]

**12: tu me rends heureuse - you make me happy**

[Sam's suit](https://www.amazon.com/s?i=fashion-mens-clothing&rh=n%3A1045686%2Cp_89%3ACloudstyle&fst=fsl%3ACloudstyle&qid=1590293530&ref=lp_1045686_blf_1_4)

[Dean's Zegna blazer](https://www.zegna.us/us-en/ready-to-wear/blazers/product.wool-and-silk-leggerissimo-blazer.10479117.html)

[Dean's Zegna polo shirt](https://www.zegna.us/us-en/ready-to-wear/polos-and-t-shirts/product.centoventimila-polo-shirt.10478742.html)

[Dean's Zegna trousers](https://www.zegna.us/us-en/ready-to-wear/pants/product.wool-pleated-trousers.10372866.html)

[Castiel's BCBG trench coat](https://www.bcbg.com/en/belted-trench-coat/FSX8270688-264.html?dwvar_FSX8270688-264_color=264&cgid=clothing-by-category-jackets#start=25&dwvar_FSX8270688-264_color=264&cgid=clothing-by-category-jackets)

[Castiel's Michael Kors blazer](https://www.michaelkors.global/en_SG/woven-cotton-blazer/_/R-CS01BF88FC)

[Castiel's Jimmy Choo shoes](https://row.jimmychoo.com/en/men/shoes/dress-shoes/salle/black-brush-off-shiny-calf-leather-monk-strap-shoes--SALLEUIF010003.html?cgid=men-shoes-dress#start=1)

[Canali Fall 2015 collection](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-2015-menswear/canali) [in the showroom]

[Charlie's Oscar de la Renta earrings](https://www.oscardelarenta.com/shop/p/hammered-hoop-earrings-20143?categoryid=0)

[Charlie's Oscar de la Renta sandals](https://www.oscardelarenta.com/shop/p/ruby-asymmetric-sandals-14457?categoryid=0)

[Missouri's Jibri coat](https://www.jibrionline.com/jackets-coats-/jibri-plus-size-printed-wool-swing-jacket-6b35b)

[Missouri's Manolo Blahnik boots](https://www.manoloblahnik.com/us/baylow-30031.html)

[Dean's Yves Saint Laurent outfit](https://www.ysl.com/us/saint-laurent/shop-product/men/springsummer20_looks_m_section) [SS2020, look 5]

[Castiel's Angel Chen fit](https://www.angelchen.com/pages/aw15) [AW2015, look 11]

[Castiel's Louis Vuitton pyjama trousers](https://uk.louisvuitton.com/eng-gb/products/printed-pyjama-trousers-nvprod1630296v)

**13: êtes-vous prêt? - are you ready?**

[Castiel's Prada coat](https://www.prada.com/gb/en/men/ready_to_wear/jackets_and_coats/products.double-breasted_wool_coat.UC441S_1VOQ_F0065_S_201.html)

[Rihanna's Simone Rocha fit](https://hausofrihanna.com/simone-rocha-brocad-jacket-skirt/)

**14: est-ce que tu m'aimes? - do you love me?**

[Castiel's Emilio Pucci cape jacket](https://www.emiliopucci.com/en-sg/shopping/belted-cape-jacket-15046923)

[Dean's Alexander McQueen jacket](https://www.alexandermcqueen.com/ca/alexandermcqueen/leather_cod41845260cd.html#dept=llmnrtw_glr)

[Castiel's Louis Vuitton mid-layer](https://ap.louisvuitton.com/eng-sg/products/envelopes-leather-midlayer-nvprod2070120v)

[Eileen's Cartier bracelet](https://www.cartier.sg/en-sg/collections/jewellery/categories/bracelets/love/b6027000-love-bracelet.html)

[Eileen's wedding dress](https://www.verawang.com/bridal-collection/fall-2019/?country=United%20States&id=23426) [Vera Wang Fall 2019, look 1]

[Sam's wedding suit](https://www.dhgate.com/product/2019-latest-coat-pant-designs-italian-men/455772693.html#seo=WAP)

[Bela's Sophie Theallet fit](https://www.sophietheallet.com/fw17) [FW2017, look 28]

[Toni's Chanel dress](https://www.chanel.com/sg/fashion/p/20A-PODIUM-062/look-62/) [Métiers D'art 19/20, look 62]

[Bela's Alexander McQueen coat](https://www.alexandermcqueen.com/en-sg/stapled-leather-coat-633541Q5AD91062.html)

[Bela's Max Mara outfit](https://world.maxmara.com/p-1041090106004-visiera-light-grey)

[Bela's Stelle McCartney dress](https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/spring-2015-ready-to-wear/stella-mccartney/slideshow/collection#36) [Spring 2015, look 36]

Cara Delevingne's Dior look [Paris Fashion Week 2018]

[Cassie's Max Mara fit](https://world.maxmara.com/p-5021070706005-tebe-black)

**15: mon rayon de soleil - my ray of sunshine**

[Castiel's Pride Doc Martens](https://www.drmartens.com/us/en/p/25701001)

[Charlie's Armani blouson](https://www.armani.com/us/armanicom/giorgio-armani/washed-cupro-blouson-with-leather-piping_cod41952763rs.html#dept=trwr)

**16: je veux être avec toi - i want to be with you**

[Castiel's Max Mara suit](https://world.maxmara.com/p-6046100906013-bruno-navy)

[Bela's Max Mara dress](https://world.maxmara.com/p-6221040106030-lazzaro-cornflower-blue)

**17: une déclaration d'amour - a declaration of love**

[Castiel's cufflinks](https://www.cufflinksdepot.com/p/15CK959/Love+Birds+Cufflinks.html)

[The Nanoleaf thing (Adam's present)](https://www.amazon.com/Nanoleaf-Rhythm-Smarter-NL28-2003TW-9PK-Pack/dp/B079FZGZS4/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ots=1&;ie=UTF8&;qid=1540216431&;sr=8-1-spons&;keywords=nanoleaf+panels&;psc=1&;smid=A3D0A7BNU1QYM3&;linkCode=ll1&;tag=usatgiftguide-20&;linkId=a4bcc04492f97963dfd78ac0ba042bc4&;language=en_US)

[Dean's Mission Workshop coat](https://missionworkshop.com/collections/outerwear/products/the-eiger)

[Charlie's Levi's pride jacket](https://www.levi.com/US/en_US/apparel/clothing/tops/levis-pride-trucker-jacket/p/723340490)

[Charlie's Converse pride sneakers](https://www.converse.com/shop/p/pride-chuck-taylor-all-star-unisex-high-top-shoe/167759C.html?dwvar_167759C_color=black%2Funiversity%20red&styleNo=167759C&cgid=pride-collection)

[Dean's LookHUMAN bisexual pride hoodie](https://www.lookhuman.com/design/71654-bi-pie-pride/97200-athletic_gray-md)

[Bela's Thierry Mugler coat](https://www.dreamstime.com/colourful-dress-clothes-fashion-parade-thierry-mugler-french-designer-exhibition-montreal-museum-fine-arts-image156048144)

[Gabriel's pansexual pride makeup](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kf-ktA89o58)

**18: bonjour, mon ange - hello, my angel**

No noted clothes


End file.
